


Repeat to Fade

by LuciaZephyr



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Drama, M/M, Mindscrewy, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-17
Updated: 2010-02-17
Packaged: 2017-10-08 01:59:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/71540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuciaZephyr/pseuds/LuciaZephyr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Like a genetic memory etched into his being, he felt dread. A field of flowers and a weapon in his hand. A place like this could break him, like it had broken another man. The cosmetic differences meant nothing if the basic shape was the same. A carpet of flowers, some petals swept up into the air as if gravity had reversed. A lone figure standing across from him. His entire world could come apart just like this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

> `>>Simulation end.  
> >>Error.  
> >>Systems parameters have been reached.  
> >>Restarting. . .`
> 
> "He was more resourceful than we thought."
> 
> "Snake failed to get us the information that we needed."
> 
> "We already have a new candidate. One with a more impressionable mind."
> 
> "Excellent. So this was only a minor setback."
> 
> "Erase his mind and set him free, he’ll be at use for us later… Perhaps Jack will fare better."
> 
> "Shall we release Snake then? Get on with the next test?"
> 
> "...You know. As long as we have him... why don't we try something a little different?"

Snake awoke feeling more tired than he ever had in his life. He was used to exhaustion that lingered after a long sleep. He spent most of his mission with various drugs and enhancers flooding his system. The crash that came after those was never fun to deal with.

But this was a different shade of weariness. His mind and body were both lethargic and slow, taking too much comfort in the soft pillow under his head and the blankets over him. He wasn't the type to become used to such gratification, always ready to leap into action and move and fight.

He'd been conscious for more than a minute and he had yet to open his eyes. There was an inherent wrongness to that. It wasn't alone either: He had no idea what day it was. How long he'd slept. Where he was. Anything. Everything outside of the heavy warmth of the bed was white noise, nothing quite registering with him.

Finally, he could hear footsteps. Making himself focus on them, he realized they were the sound of someone who was inexpertly trying to walk quietly, the rough stepping sound traded for an equally noisy shuffling.

It stopped next to Snake's head, someone standing next to the bed. "You're awake," Otacon said, hushed with surprise. That was never a good sign.

Snake opened his eyes blurredly, twisting his head to look at his partner. He looked like a wreck, hair softly mussed in a disarray, dark smudges of sleeplessness under his eyes, and Snake was certain there was the start of new lines around his mouth from worry.

"You look horrible," Snake croaked, rubbing his face.

"Thank you, that means the world to me," Otacon replied dryly and sat on the side of the bed. His hand curled around Snake's arm, grip tight with barely-contained upset. "You've been out a- a long time. Are you all right? Do you need anything?"

"How long?"

Otacon looked down and muttered something that couldn't possibly be right.

"Five _days_?"

Otacon nodded solemnly. "I'm not too thrilled about it either, you know." His gaze didn't lift from the point where his hand met Snake's arm. "After I found the facility and the VR machine they had you in, you wouldn't wake up." His voice was fragile, waiting to crack and fail. He paused, collecting himself. "Had to call in a few of our favors to even get you to safety. Since then, it's just been... waiting."

"Hal..."

"Don't, it- it definitely wasn't your fault." Otacon's grip tightened slightly as he forced a smile. "I doubt you wanted to sleep that long. Seems your body just demanded it, huh?" Otacon's expression softened to something calmer, now curious. "What'd VR did you get put through?"

"You already know. The... Victoria Reed and REX." He smiled faintly at Otacon. "Did I thank you for busting me out yet?"

Otacon returned the smile tentatively. "No, that's not... erm... You're welcome." He pressed, "But what'd they have you in after that?"

Snake frowned. "After what?"

"After the initial simulation with Reed and the fake Otacon." When Snake continued to look unaware of what he was talking about, he elaborated, "After we busted that first VR simulation, it took me another three days to work up the resources to go rescue you. You were still in a running VR machine when I got to you."

Snake dropped his head down against the pillow, staring at the cheap popcorn ceiling. He didn't remember anything after feeling the first simulation falter and fail around him. If he'd been in another simulation, he had no recollection of it at all, which, added to the exhaustion he was feeling, left him deeply unsettled. He had a soldier's memory. Even small lapses were uncommon. Days of lost time though, that was something to be worried about.

"It's okay now, isn't it?" Otacon sounded unsure, but hopeful. "You're out and your vitals all check out. You're safe now."

Snake didn't agree in the slightest, but nodded to assuage his partner's worries. In truth, he wasn't sure he wanted to remember. There was a deep, innate hesitation to fill in the blanks of those three days. His mind and body acted as a well-oiled machine. It'd take something staggering to throw him like this, to make him so bone tired, to shake his recollections, to make his heart clench in a new, painful way when he looked at Otacon.

He had no idea what could have happened.

* * *

  
This is what happened.

* * *

  
The first thing Snake felt after the world rearranged itself around him was the smell of roses. It was nauseatingly thick, inexpertly coating the air he breathed, permeating everything. Before even opening his eyes, he knew this was another VR simulation. Delicate perceptions like smell, taste, and touch were harder to simulate than waves of light and sound, which were more easily calculated and coded. It was sloppy, the unsubtle herald of another game his captors were going to put him through.

Otacon would get him out. All he had to do was wait. He had no doubts about his partner's determination towards keeping him alive. Being pulled half-alive from the Hudson River in the middle of a storm after a shipwreck assured him of Otacon's stubbornness.

For now, Snake decided to see what illusion he'd have to humor for the time being and opened his eyes.

Above him was nothing but crisp blue skies framed by white roses. He was laying in them apparently, which almost excused the overpowering aroma.

He couldn't hear anything but the rustle of the flowers shifting against each other in the breeze. It was a surprisingly loud sound for something that should have been just white noise. Curiosity about this made him finally sit up, slowly, without sudden movements.

All around him were the roses. He seemed to be on a plateau. No other landscape was in sight but the white and the blue, and where they met abruptly a few dozen yards ahead of him. Standing, he found that it was actually just a platform of roses, a field suspended over apparently nothing. And he seemed to be the only one around. He turned in a circle, looking for anything significant. Finding nothing, he walked to the edge, mindful of the stems and petals under his feet.

There was nothing. Just the edge of the platform and miles of endless sky. Of endless _simulated_ sky. Had his captors just stuck him in a blank, almost featureless program for safe-keeping? A serpent locked in a garden. The joke was mildly amusing.

The very air around Snake very suddenly shifted, making room for something. _Behind_, his senses screamed and he tensed, looking over his shoulder.

A sword was planted in the ground just behind him. A long, thin rapier jammed into the platform, its swirling silver hilt facing him, inviting. Knowing he would regret doing so, he reached out, grasping the hilt under the ornate guard and yanking it out of the ground. It was surprisingly light for its length and Snake gave it an experimental swing, thoughtlessly adjusting to it despite his lack of aptitude. Belatedly, he noticed the silver guard was vaguely rose-shaped.

Head tipped back to speak to the artificial sky and artificial gods, "This flower theme is a little overwrought, isn't it?" He asked no one.

"You should see the source material. It's even worse," someone answered.

Snake spun, letting his momentum swing his arm out, ready to strike whoever managed to sneak up on his right side. His companion was nowhere near him though. Nearly on the other side of the field, his voice carried too easily. The figure was kneeling in the roses, carefully brushing his hands delicately over one. Finally, the speaker stood, reluctantly drawing his attention away from the blindingly white blossoms.

Snake snarled. "Who are you? What the hell is this?"

"To answer your second question, this is a virtual reality simulation. Obviously." His voice was as familiar as Snake's own, patient if nonchalant, considering the gravity of Snake's questions. "And with that in mind, the first question is of little consequence, isn't it?" The man turned, a serene smile on his face, for he could be little other than benign, even against his enemies. Some people were just so soft and gentle, it baffled Snake.

"Otacon..." His brow creased, confused. "Did they grab you too? I thought you were on the outside."

The man laughed softly, sweetly, and took a few steps toward Snake. "I am. Don't be dense. This isn't real, David."

Snake stiffened at the sound of his name. "How did you-"

"Your benefactors know quite a bit about you. And me, obviously." He smiled around the environment fondly. "It makes you nervous, doesn't it? You've only told that name to Meryl and I, maybe a handful of others. Hearing it said so casually, it's a breach, isn't it?" Otacon's head cocked to the side, watching Snake with a far too detached look. He was unmistakably an imposter. The image was correct, but the expected blend of distress and worry and optimism were absent. It was like someone else wearing his skin.

"Why am I here? What do my _benefactors_ want?"

"Don't know. That's a little beyond my scope. It's a little like being a soldier, really." Otacon's hand fell to his side, landing on the hilt of a sheathed sword at his side. His grip tightened around it, slowly drawing it out, a long, simple but deadly katana. It suited him. "I just have to follow orders. Don't really know what they're for."

"That's not being a soldier, you know that." Snake corrected himself, "_Otacon_ knows that."

"You have other things to worry about right now." With a flick of Otacon's wrist, the katana arced, flipping his hold on it in one fluid, dangerous motion so he was gripping like one would for an actual fight. "Get ready."

Snake wasn't. A sharp wind hit the platform and rose petals where everywhere, white obscuring his vision so he barely had time to pivot and stumble backward, away from the thrust of Otacon's sword. As Otacon fought to not trip, inertia carrying him a few feet farther than he intended, Snake backed away quickly. "What the hell are you doing?"

"What you do best. Come on!" Otacon launched himself at Snake again, swinging recklessly.

Snake lifted his rapier, blocking the blow and sidestepping out of Otacon's reach. "No. Forget it." To the sky, again he yelled, "Whatever you're hoping to get from this, forget it! I'm not your plaything."

"This isn't real," Otacon-but-not said, sliding into a duel stance that there was no way the real Otacon would know. "You'll be busted out of here before long. I'm not your Hal Emmerich. Why won't you fight?"

Snake grit his teeth. "That's none of your business." Aware that this was a potentially dangerous thing to do, he threw down his sword, letting it fall amid the roses, almost immediately invisible among them. "I won't go along with this."

Otacon sighed and looked deeply disappointed, like he'd just been told their latest hideout had no high-speed internet for him to play with. "Have it your way." He spun the katana again and slid it back in its sheath.

A moment later, it flew back out, slashing at Snake's head.

Snake was just barely fast enough to save himself from decapitation. He pushed himself back, letting his body fall down, crushing some flowers under his weight when he landed.

A stinging pain flared over his cheek. He pressed his palm to his and drew away to find his hand red.

Otacon's sword touched Snake's chest, pressure light. For now. "You don't get to decide. Pick up your sword."

Snake glared up defiantly at the facade of his partner. As he inhaled, he could feel the tip of the katana pressing through his shirt, cold metal against his skin. "Go to hell."

Otacon lifted his sword, holding it straight and still above his head. "This VR doesn't deaden pain sensations. This is going to hurt."

The quiet sound of a sword cutting air apart and Snake rolled, throwing his body out of the way. Steps followed him and as he stumbled to his feet, as swiftly as he could, a shallow slice ran across a shoulder blade. Swallowing a grunt of pain, he got to his feet and faced his assailant.

Otacon bent down and lifted the rapier from the roses. With a toss, it landed unnaturally, planting itself in the ground before Snake. "You have to understand. I can't not attack you. Main objective, infallible programming and all those things. You can either defend yourself or let me spill more of your blood. What good will that do, David?"

Snake ignored the sword. Instead, he circled Otacon, keeping his distance. "That's what they want me to do, isn't it? They get something out of me fighting you. They created you in Otacon's image for a reason." He shook his head. "I'm not playing along. We're not tools of the government or anyone else," Snake intoned easily, Fox's words forever a comfort.

Otacon's blank face slipped into a concerned gaze Snake was accustomed to seeing. Snake's breath caught, wondering for a minute if... but no. "You know, I'm just a construct, but... It's not just physical." He looked down at his katana, at the slight smear of red along the blade. Like a whisper that carried on the wind, "I don't want to hurt you." He shook his head hard, like trying to eject the thought from his head. "Pick up your _sword_!" His voice cracked slightly.

"No." Snake braced himself, ready to move, but also watching Otacon shake with his reticence and frustration. He wondered why his captors picked Otacon of all people to fight him. He'd been recreated accurately enough that it should have been obvious he wasn't good for this. Too weak. As brilliant as he was, he couldn't handle this like a fake Fox or any given soldier.

He didn't have the chance to speculate. He was dodging again, stepping and twisting out of the way of Otacon's latest onslaught. His strikes were sloppy, but with all his weight and determination behind each one, they were capable of a deceptive amount of damage. Without any training, his attack pattern had no grace, no foreseeable method. Inexperience was not always a weakness.

And Otacon didn't tire, it seemed. He attacked almost continuously, using momentum to carry him from one strike to the next. He adapted, slowly got more efficient. With a completely flat arena lacking any cover to hide and catch his breath behind, Snake's pace slowed. As it did, he found himself not taking quite as large or fast of steps as he needed to. Otacon took advantage, and Snake found himself hissing in pain with each new cut. In moments, he was bleeding freely from his shoulder, arm, back, side- Nothing life threatening on its own, but as more and more piled up... He needed a stronger defense. Straightforward agility wasn't enough.

He let Otacon land a slice, painting a dark, shallow line diagonally across his chest. Otacon was continuing to put too much force behind every swing. It was easy to use that, grabbing the illusion's arm and tugging him forward, off balance. With a surprised cry, he tumbled into the roses. The window wouldn't last long; Snake sprinted to the rapier he'd abandoned and yanked it out of the ground.

He was tired and in pain and sick of this game, but now he stood a chance. The next strike, he parried with a clash of metal. By now, he knew Otacon's attacks, amateur as they were. Snake's attacker compensated with faster, relentless strikes, leaving Snake to defend himself constantly. He was still driven backward, dodging when he could, shielding when he couldn't. The thinner blade of the rapier curved slightly, unmatched against the katana.

The hilt's grip wasn't quite long enough for both his hands, and his arm grew cramped and overworked within minutes. Half his mind was focused just on avoiding another hit, the other half noting how the blood loss was starting to get to him, uninhibited by nanomachine or possible bandaging, making him sluggish. Otacon remained unnaturally invigorated, unaffected by the dueling like Snake was. It wasn't fair, and Snake was casting his thoughts around for an out, knowing it'd be foolish to just hope his Otacon would soon free him from this simulation, needing a contingency plan that didn't end with him bleeding out in a virtual world. He was a weapon, but a human weapon, and subject to a man's limitations. He needed-

Otacon stumbled, foot catching on a tangle of flowers, and Snake mindlessly seized the opening, swinging up and running the foible through. A curl of scarlet flared, from lower rib to clavicle. The force of it, fast and deadly accurate, tossed Otacon back, laying him out.

Snake waited.

He didn't get back up.

In the span of a second, Snake blinked and felt the adrenaline of battle drain from him as the weight of what he'd done crushed him. The rapier spilled from his grasp, left to fall behind him as he threw himself down next to Otacon, kneeling amongst the roses next to his-- the _parody_ of his friend.

He seemed pretty real now. The fierce determination gone, he seemed like _Hal_, clutching at his chest as if he could urge split skin to knit itself. He looked softly surprised and scared, breath coming in little distraught gasps edged with agony as the sensation began to flare in his chest.

Or, as it would if he were real. But he wasn't. He _couldn't be_. He was a false avatar, no matter how honest the pain on his face seemed, how Snake imagined Hal would look if he'd hurt the man.

But he never would. He couldn't raise a weapon against Hal. It was impossible. The whole situation was absurd.

Hal let out a gasping cry of pain, clenching his eyes shut, face contorted horribly. "D-dave, oh," he eked out before biting his lip hard enough to make it bleed. "Th-this really hurts more than I expected."

Snake's mouth was dry. His reply was little more than a croak of, "Wasn't a clean cut. Just took the chance when it appeared."

Hal laughed briefly before the sound morphed harshly into a cough. "You're always pr-pragmatic."

"Hal..." Snake brushed his hand through Hal's fanned out hair. He could feel each individual thread of it, the color of earth at dusk twined between his fingers, soft, soft. He was all soft lines and tender gazes, and Snake cut him down as easily as he might've any enemy.

Hal's starlight eyes were dulling when he opened them to look at Snake. His smile was tinged red when he offered it. "I... didn't I tell you? You're bad luck." He reached up, a bloodied hand curling over Snake's cheek. Snake flinched, remembering his own wound there when Hal pressed his palm against it, smearing red from both of them there.

"There's no way you can know he said that," Snake murmured. "You're not real."

Hal's smile widened, fond and saccharine sweet. "You want to argue reality with me _now_? You really would be lost without me."

Snake's throat clenched abruptly, his heart feeling like it was squeezed in a vice. His hand slid behind Hal's head, cradling it as he bowed his own, resting his forehead against Hal's. He could feel warm puffs of air against his face as Hal's breathing got strained. He couldn't speak.

A moment of silence passed, and Hal's hand fell away from Snake's cheek. His labored breathing eased, as if he were going to drift off to sleep. It slowed more, until it stopped altogether.

Snake kept his eyes closed, continuing to hold Hal's body. There was a tide of fury rising in him, rage at himself for taking that opening, at whoever was doing this to him.

Hal was coming for him. He was on his way. Unscathed, and soon to be under Snake's protection again. He'd never lay a hand on the man in anything but comfort.

_You have to be able to protect them._

Snake sighed, unable to complete rein in the mournful tone of it. Reality or not, feeling Hal's life flow out of his body wasn't something he'd ever contemplated or prepared for. After all, Snake was the agent, the one in the line of fire. If he had his way, Shadow Moses would be the first and last time Hal was in the field. This was exactly what Snake didn't want: Hal's eyes unseeing, the sickly sweet smell of copper, blood blossoming across his chest.

He looked terrible in red anyway.

Snake shut Hal's eyes for him and lowered him onto the ground. He waited a moment for the inevitable fade from existence. Most combat VRs were programmed to get rid of fallen assets, something about conserving RAM, something Snake didn't quite understand despite all of Hal's attempts to explain with metaphors about desk drawers and types of storage. All Snake knew was that in VR, an enemy left no corpse, body vanishing with an unnatural beeping cue.

It didn't come like Snake was expecting. Hal just lay as if sleeping amongst the white roses, some petals tinted red where Hal's blood had spilled. He looked very peaceful. But most people did look peaceful in death, Snake had noticed, like a great burden was lifted from them. He supposed it was, now that he thought about it.

Sighing, Snake pushed himself to his feet, walking away from his fallen opponent and friend. It was an action he was getting used to doing.

"Now what do you want?" He said quietly. He knew he didn't need to speak up for his captors to hear him. "I killed him. Are we finished?"

He already knew the answer. He was beginning to understand how the people who set this up thought of him. Something to be used. He'd been born and molded into the shape of a weapon, of flesh and sinew instead of gunpowder and steel. Point him in a direction and pull the trigger. That may have been the test then, he supposed. No matter how deadly and precise, Snake was still a man with a name and a free will, whether he exercised them or not. Maybe they were testing to see if pointing him at an ally would result in a misfire.

But that didn't explain why Hal of all people. If these people knew enough to program their Hal to parrot nigh-forgotten lines from Alaska to him, they should know that there would be others he couldn't gun down. Put Gray Fox in front of Snake and Snake would sooner hand Fox his weapons than make a move to harm the soldier. He couldn't even take the shot to kill Liquid when the chance presented itself, not with an already doomed Fox in the way.

And he knew this was a VR. Knew he was being toyed with. But the entire fight was anticlimactic. After killing hundreds of flesh and bone men, running a sword through a fake one wasn't quite a straw to break the camel's back.

He was missing something. Swords and duels and a Hal that managed to be both alien and familiar all at once. Not to mention the arena that was more garden than battlefield suspended in a horizonless sky.

"This makes no sense."

Like before, he'd expected no reply and was startled when he got one.

"VR sims like this prefer rhyme to reason." Snake turned to see Hal kneeling on the ground. His corpse was gone or perhaps reanimated, and the man sat with the roses, running his fingers over the red splattered petals of one. His own blood clung to his fingers and he rubbed them together, watching red smear curiously. "Don't you think it's worth it?"

"You're back," Snake observed dully, unsure what to even make of this development. Hal was alive and whole, no reminder of his death remaining but for his coat. A diagonal slice remained across his chest, though the skin underneath was unmarked and smooth, not even a scar remaining.

"Mm," Hal hummed, otherwise not acknowledging that Snake had spoke. "It doesn't make much sense, but isn't it beautiful?"

Snake couldn't say he found the arena that appealing, but he wasn't fond of flowers, and they reminded him of snow and Shadow Moses in particular. He'd never been fond of the color white either. Blood showed up easiest on a white surface, stark and accusing. "I killed you."

"I know." Hal straightened with a sigh, brushing off his pants. "We're not finished yet."

Snake almost made a smart remark, about how killing someone usually meant you were finished with them, but that was a lie. He was just happy that Hal wasn't decked out in a cyborg exoskeleton now. "What do your bosses want?"

Hal shrugged. "I don't know. Believe it or not, but they haven't been really talking to me much. I do know that my prime directive hasn't changed." In lieu of explaining, Hal drew his katana.

"This again?" Snake growled. "Forget it. Once was enough."

"You don't exactly have a choice in the matter, David." Hal walked towards Snake, each step rustling the ground, but ringing loudly with purpose. "Are you going to pick up your sword, or do you want to protest a bit first?"

The latter was more likely, in all honesty. Snake tried another tactic. "Do you want to do this?" Hal was getting closer, and Snake dropped his voice to something intimate and quiet. "If you're meant to be Hal Emmerich, you don't want to hurt anyone. The Hal I know couldn't hurt another person. Some people don't have it in them."

Hal laughed, smiling at Snake. His grin was warm, but his eyes held little but pity, something about Snake's words making him look even more real and broken. "You're wrong. Everyone has it in them. Even me. It's all about circumstances, that's all. Push someone enough and they'll bend. Push harder and they'll break." The katana spun around Hal's hand before he reaffirmed his grip, flashy, but steeped in potential to cause all kinds of hurt. "Enough talking, David."

It began all over again. Snake ducked and rolled and dodged, sometimes successful, sometimes not. New wounds opened up and having already seen just how fast Hal could be when he was determined, Snake didn't stall long before picking up his abnormally resilient rapier, deflecting the heavy handed hits with an ease that tried his suspension of disbelief. He almost wanted a heavy sword that could more realistically ward off Hal's blows, if only for immersion's sake. Everything about the environment screamed simulation, just battling values that paid only cursory attention to how the real world operated.

As far as values went, it was as though Hal's programming had gotten an upgrade. His fighting technique was still unpolished and would get him thrown out of any serious combat study, but he moved with more swiftness, took more risks, and was rewarded with adding new crimson gashes to Snake's skin. Snake bled freely, lacking the time or opportunity to stem the flow. He was not going to be tricked into attacking the doppelganger this time. It was clearly what his captors wanted from him.

This was easier said than done. He was the soldier, the warrior of the two, and his body ached from the mixture of not attacking, of constantly retreating, of going against every instinct he had.

Snake pushed towards Hal, watching his eyes widen in surprise, and crashed their swords together. With a shove, he sent Hal tumbling down to the ground. Hal didn't launch back onto the offensive, and Snake took the time to plant his blade down and leaned on it. There would be another burst of attacking and deflecting in a moment. For now, Snake just rested while he could, trying to gather his strength again even as his body felt damp with sweat and blood.

Hal set his katana on his knees, an obvious sign that he was allowing the time-out, and shook out his hands. Did he feel the sort of weariness Snake did? Was there a set of ones and zeros made to mimic that too? Snake already knew this Hal could apparently feel pain and agony and his life fading away like the ebb of a tide. The adrenaline and the part of him that loved battle more than he'd loved any person wanted to know just how real the imposter was. How method was his acting.

"You look wrecked," Hal observed.

Snake laughed once. "You should tell your bosses their plan's flawed. They want to make me fight, but I can't do this forever."

Hal smiled in a sad sort of way. "You're the man that makes the impossible possible."

"I'm the man bleeding out in more places than not," Snake retorted.

"I don't think they took that into consi-" Hal stopped mid-word, eyes glazing over. His entire body froze, not moving but for his steady breathing. He seemed to be listening very hard. His lips moved, but no sound came out, at least none that Snake could hear. There was a brief conversation, between Hal and the people running the sim, Snake presumed. That, or his familiar chunk of programming glitched and was talking to himself.

"New orders?" Snake asked after a while, impatient and trying not to be nervous. He could feel the rules changing in the air around them even now.

Hal blinked and was back, looking at him with that persistent sorrowful gaze. "Something like that..." Hal got up, katana dragging along the ground as he held it in a limp grip. His other hand was against his chest, running along the slice in his shirt, face drawn in deep contemplation. Apparently facades of his friends gifted with nominal fighting ability and phoenix-like resurrection had to take time to install new directives or something. Snake didn't want to think that whatever Hal had been told upset him. He needed to at least _attempt_ to keep reality and simulation separate.

Hal nodded, seeming to gather himself. Squaring his shoulders, he looked at Snake long and hard. "It's a deal. Our benefactors recognize that you can't keep going like this without medical aid or nanomachines to recover some."

"Going to offer me a few bandages to stop the bleeding?" He hoped, at least. A simple solution, though it didn't help with the long-term problem.

"Better than that." Hal swung his sword at the ground, knocking petals into the air, and leveled his blade at Snake. He had a flair for the dramatic, but from the tight frown on himself, he was steeling himself for something. "Full recovery. Like hitting a reset button for you. No cuts, no blood, no weariness. All wiped away."

To say he was suspicious would be a great understatement. "Nice of them. What's the catch?"

Hal smiled, that irritating, serene curve of his lips. "Come on, David. You're a smart guy. I don't think I need to spell it out." When Snake refused to offer anything up, Hal sighed and said in a kind, permitting tone, "Kill me."

_Knew it_. Snake shook his head. "I'll bleed to death instead, thanks."

"You sure you can? Death's a little weird here, as you may have noticed."

"I don't _care_," Snake snapped, walking away, though not before picking up his sword. He'd learned that much by now.

"How can you be so... " Hal let out a loud groan of anger and Snake could hear the steps behind him, faster than he was sure he could handle right then.

But he had to. That was the underlying ideal that permeated his entire life. He had to. He had to or he'd fail. He had to or he'd die. He had to kill Hal or he'd-

Hal's strikes were ruthless, and Snake used both hands in an awkward white-knuckled grip on his rapier to keep up. He went through the motions: block, parry, sidestep, hiss in pain, gasp at the sting in his side, backpedal, rinse and repeat.

His vision dipped, eyes crossing for just a second's worth of dizziness that came and went in the same instant. But it threw him off, that damned human error in a world of unerring computational might.

He grunted with surprise, then could hold back a low cry as the katana slid just a little farther into his side. He senses dulled, staring unseeing ahead of himself, looking at the hurt expression on Hal's face, like he'd the one who'd just been stabbed. Maybe he was feeling sympathetically remembering the feeling. After Snake killed him once, he had to know the sensation.

The sensation was radiating pain that throbbed and flowed out from the cut through him, seeping into his bones until everything hurt. The katana was pulled away and Snake grabbed his side with one hand, barely staying on his feet.

"Oh god, Dave," Hal choked out. He grabbed Snake's arms, eased him down onto one knee, hands fluttering indecisively between Snake's face, his cuts, _that_ cut, and his shoulders. "I warned you, I did, you _never listen_ to me." Hal sounded more upset than when he had laid in the roses, back arching, eyes shutting in exquisite torment.

Snake barked a laugh at the vivid memory. Turnabout was fair play, but this _ached_, the pain steadily growing instead of fading as it should have. VR couldn't even get that right. "I don't... like orders much anymore," he said, belabored.

"Not even from me?" Hal said, trying to sound light, but completely failing.

"You're not real. Getting a little- " he took a ragged breath, _fuck_, it still hurt too much, "-tired of these Otacon impersonators."

"Dave..." Hal touched his face. "Wait, listen to me, that's just it. I'm not real. I'm not, I promise." His tempo was speeding up, distressed, worried. "You won't die, none of this is real and they can get as much fun out of putting you through- through _this_ as they could anything else." Hal grabbed Snake's hand, squeezing it. "You need to stop this, no one should... not this, please."

Snake stared into Hal's eyes with not insignificant effort. "If you're not real, why do you care so much?"

"Dammit, David, stop it!" Hal's eyes were looking wet. "J-just please, I don't want to see you like this, I don't-" he stopped, reached down to his ankle and withdrew a knife, long and simple, easy to hide away. It was useless for the sort of combat they were engaging in, but this close...

"Hal, I'm not going to-"

"You have to." Hal pressed the hilt into Snake's hand, then set the point against his own chest. "I'll be fine but you won't be," he said, pleading. "I... I hate seeing you like this. If I can do something to protect you, let me, please."

This was sick. Hal begging him to shove a knife into his chest to save his own skin. Nothing was real, but it was all so visceral, the twisting pain, that copper smell again, the taste of Hal's breath as he pressed his face to Snake's and coaxed him along. His body felt cold, probably shock or blood loss kicking in, and Hal's cheek was pleasantly warm against his. Snake sighed, drinking in the small comfort, relaxing slightly, letting go for just a moment.

"O-oh," Hal whispered in a completely different, calmer tone. Snake's eyes snapped open and he looked down. The first inch of the knife vanished through the cloth of Hal's jacket, which was starting to darken already.

"No," Snake whispered, as if the word alone could reverse the damage done.

Hal's hands folded around Snake's, over the knife, stopping him from pulling back. "No, d-don't..." He took a long but shallow breath, eyes half-lidded and- Snake looked harshly away from the satisfied _relief_ he saw there, and felt certain this would be added to his torturous subconscious every night he slept for the rest of his _life_. "Almost there, please, I just want t-to help you."

"Stop _saying that_," Snake hissed, but whether it was his anger getting the better of his already disobeying body or some latent militaristic need to _obey_, the knife pressed in further. Hal's face pulled into a tight wince, a nearly inaudible moan accompanying it.

Snake's gut twisted horribly at the sight, at the sound, the feel of Hal guiding Snake's hand-

He was going to find the people behind this and he was going to _kill them_.

With all the strength he had left, he turned the knife and thrust it up and in. Like hot magma in his veins, heat and power poured into him, effectively wiping out all his pain and revitalizing him in the span of a second. He sighed, letting the feeling wash over him, the looming feeling of impending death chased away.

He drank a few deep, steadying breaths, collecting himself. He felt clean and new again, the gash in his side repaired along with the smaller slices he'd endured. After such pervasive exhaustion and an unrelenting burn along his nerves, it was hard not to feel elated by the change.

But his hands were slick again.

He looked at Hal, who was bonelessly slumped against his shoulder. His breath was faltering again and on one last exhale of air, Snake heard him murmur, "Thank you," before going still a second time.

* * *

  
When Snake was finally able to keep his eyes open for more than a few minutes at a time, he harassed Otacon into helping him limp out of the bedroom. His body was still apparently carrying around lead weights, slowing his every move, but that was most likely from lack of sustenance over the last week. He told Otacon as much when the man wouldn't stop hovering, trying in vain to help something solidly outside his power.

He instantly reacted by shuffling off to the kitchen to rustle through the cabinets. At Snake's inquiry of what he was doing, he proclaimed, "We have a can of broth in here somewhere. Chicken soup is supposed to cure all that ails you, right?" He sounded unsure, domesticity never one of his strong suits.

He made up for lack of experience with determination though, and Snake was grateful. Not enough to let Otacon cook unsupervised-- never a good idea-- but still grateful. Snake settled in an armchair that gave him a clear line of sight to the tiny kitchen area. Otacon could figure out the basics of a quick soup: chop cooked chicken, vegetables, put in broth, heat. Sometimes Snake would tell him to add more pepper to the mix, but otherwise just observed the rare event that was Otacon cooking.

Step by step, Otacon made his way through the process of making soup with a great deal of concentration, the sort he usually saved for his most intense hacking jobs under heavy time constraints. It was oddly touching, enough so that it'd lessen the blow if the resulting meal was another culinary failure.

Snake lazily watched Hal chopping carrots, movements driving the knife down against the counter in timely, rhythmic thuds. It reminded Snake of Otacon's typing, the tempo making for soothing listening.

It was interrupted by a clatter and Otacon cursing. Snake's eyes snapped open before he realized they'd closed.

Otacon was holding his hand, wincing. A line of bright blood was stark against his pale skin as it slowly made its way down his palm. "Ow, ow, ouch," he muttered under his breath, groping around for a dishtowel to staunch the flow.

And Snake watched with wide eyes. He should have wondered why his breath caught so painfully at the sight, why his mind was filled with apologies and guilt that derailed and consumed his thoughts. He should have instantly known something was very, very wrong from the simultaneous sensations of contrition and an odd satisfaction that seized him, chaining him to his seat, unable to move to help.

He should have. But all he could think about was, _I was wrong. He doesn't look that terrible in red_


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You can't stop this so easily. You upped the ante. Well, I can do the same." Hal's lips twitched, almost playfully. "Here's something you can't do."

Snake sat there a long time. The rush of having his injuries lifted, his physical state defaulting back, it felt long past. He just sat, Hal's head on his leg. As a shameful apology, he arranged Hal as well as he could, hair brushed away from his paled face, hands resting on his chest, body straight and fixed off any unkempt appearance. Like this, Snake could almost pretend he was sleeping.

Self-defense was one thing. An adrenaline-fueled mistake was another. Trading Hal's life for his own comfort... Snake could think of some words for that, and none of them were good.

He didn't know he had it in him to be shocked at his own actions anymore. Low grade contempt continued to flow through him like a miasma. Despite however well he was supposed to feel now, however clean and refreshed he was, he felt sick just looking at the drying blood on his hands.

It was easy to brush off, dark scarlet-tinged brown dust flecks breaking off with the slightest effort. The evidence came off with so little trace, Snake resented it. He shut his eyes, sighing, not wanting to see his own clean hands.

The weight on his thigh vanished, followed immediately after by the rustle of footsteps behind him.

Snake stood up and faced Hal. "Hal."

"Hello again, David." Hal smiled kindly, just as always, but now it didn't seem as soft as he remembered. He'd seen Hal fight now. It was enlightening.

"That time again?" Snake picked up his sword, walking towards Hal, who blinked in surprise.

"You're not going to resist this time?"

"No point in it, right?" Snake beckoned Hal to him. "Come on. Let's get this over with."

Hal didn't seem to believe him at first, skepticism written on his face plainly. "You're generally too stubborn to give up that easily. I know you."

_You really don't_, Snake thought, or perhaps hoped. "If you're half as accurate a copy as you claim, then you know already." He walked slowly towards Hal, sword at the ready. "My life's been full of meaningless battles, and this is just another. I'm tired of them." His face was carefully blank. "So let's get this over with."

Hal sighed, but nodded. "I understand. As much as I can understand something like that." He smiled apologetically, as though not having the kind of traumas and experiences Snake had was a great failing on his part. "I, heh. I think the phrase is _en garde_?"

Hal launched forward. Snake was ready, had turned this over and over in his head as he continued to search for an out to this seemingly endless cycle of attack and retaliation. Snake didn't bother deflecting Hal's strike, instead ducking under it. His foot connected with Hal's ankle, making it easy to knock the man over with a well placed shove against his back. Hal was pitched behind him, knocking up a flurry of white petals as he fell to the ground. From there, it was a simple matter of pivoting and following him down. Hal gasped as Snake harshly planted his knee down against his diaphragm, knocking the air out of him.

His opponent was completely bewildered by the turn, and Snake found little resistance when he squeezed Hal's wrist, shaking his grip of his katana. Snatching it up, Snake released him, on his feet in a moment and walking away swiftly as Hal strove to recover.

"What are you-" Hal coughed, pausing to inhale deeply, holding his abdomen. "G-give that back!"

"No." Snake slid his rapier into his belt, looking back at Hal for a beat. "You should've trusted your instincts." His long stride brought him to the platform's edge in seconds, and without a second's hesitation, he threw the katana over the side. It fell into the endless blue sky that surrounded them. Snake leaned over for a moment to watch it fall, quickly becoming a glimmer of silver beneath him. He had to look away; it was disconcerting, knowing gravity was dragging the katana down, but unable to shake the feeling it was falling up. His eyes and mind playing tricks on him.

He turned back to find Hal gaping at him. "You-!"

"Me, yeah." Snake nodded. "I told you I was tired of meaningless fights."

"I... You..." Hal groaned, running a hand through his hair. "I didn't think of this..."

Snake shrugged. "Guess now we'll find out how strong that directive of yours is. You going to try fisticuffs next?"

Hal snorted. "No one calls it that anymore, Dave," he chided. Despite his levity, he didn't waste much time before pulling up his pant leg and unsheathing the knife he kept there. Hal eyed it thoughtfully before getting up, brushing off his pants.

Snake glared. Hal's persistence was more annoying than a real threat this time. "You come at me with that, it'll go over too."

"No, it won't." Hal's bemused expression dropped, leaving something much stonier. "You can't stop this so easily. You upped the ante. Well, I can do the same." Hal's lips twitched, almost playfully. "Here's something you can't do."

With a static flicker and electrical whine Snake knew too well, Hal vanished.

Snake found himself stunned, uncharacteristically frozen in place, watching the spot where Hal had stood. He blinked hard, as if it was just a trick of his eyes that had occurred. Snake knew better though and dropped into a cautious guard stance. He strained his eyes and ears, searching for any trace of Hal. An imperfect flicker of light, the sound of footsteps, something.

His attempts were thwarted when the wind picked up. What had been a calm breeze strengthened into a gust that almost made him stagger. White soared up and swirled, obscuring his vision. It was like being caught in a blizzard, all the vision impairment though thankfully lacking the chance at frostbite. It was loud, the rustling of the roses and the whistle of wind.

Hal wasn't a half bad strategist, Snake mused with some pride even as he cursed and knocked some petals away from his face.

"Is this your idea of a fair fight, Hal?"

Snake thought perhaps the wind drowned out his voice too much or that Hal was taking the concept of being undetected seriously. Then there were lips against his ear and a soft voice saying, "You threw away my sword and you want a _fair fight_?"

Reaching back as soon as he recognized Hal's presence failed, the engineer slipping away before Snake could grab him. He felt strangely bereft, simultaneously alone in the expanse of the arena and yet dangerously not. It took a long time for Hal to betray his location again, showing himself by clashing his knife against Snake's sword, a sharp, brief reminder before he was gone again. He was _toying_ with Snake, and it was embarrassing in a way. Snake had faced much more dangerous foes and yet his inexperienced tech was quickly getting under his skin. The teasing quality to Hal's strikes, none of them worth worrying about outside basic paranoia value, it was _irritating_.

"Want to loan me a Soliton system or something?" Snake shouted. "Otherwise this isn't going to get much more interesting."

Snake jerked in surprise, certain he felt a hand run through his hair. It might have been the wind though as Hal's voice wasn't near when he replied, "You're not thinking. Think about your resources. You're the one always harping on using your environment to equip yourself."

"Invisible man routine's making you a little cocky, Hal."

There was a bubble of laughter from... somewhere. "_Think_, David."

As hard as it was with his partner teasing him every few seconds -- or was it minutes? There was no sign of the passage of time in here -- Snake did concentrate on trying to determine what Hal was referring to. Unlike in the outside world, the stealth cloaking was nigh perfect, lacking the flickers and bits of static someone could spot if they knew what to look for.

The knife danced along Snake's back, leaving nothing but a thin, shallow line at the small of his back.

Hearing was useless. Sight was nearly as much, the cloud of white thick like a harbor's morning fog. He tried, briefly, to swing his rapier in a long, outward arc, but stopped eventually. He didn't actually want to hit Hal after all. There had to be something else, something he was overlooking. This was just like any fight. He just needed to find the weakness, as he was being invited to.

His bandanna fell loose; the worn cloth evenly cut in with one tug. He almost grabbed him there, a hand catching Hal's coat, but his hold wasn't close to sure and again Hal slipped away.

Snake bent down, grabbing his bandanna before if could tangle in the roses. It was useless now, the slice leaving two too-short bands that wouldn't make it around Snake's crown again. Without really thinking about it, he let the wind pull it away, reverently following the stark navy blue as it arched fluidly through the air, clear in the mix of petals and sky.

Then, as Snake lazily tracked it, the bandanna stopped, like it hit a wall. He frowned and squinted at it. It was mostly stationary, flapping, twisting around nothing.

Or something that looked like nothing. Snake stepped forward, trying to make his eyes focus on the right spot. The bandanna eventually was blown away, but Snake continued to peer hard at the same spot. There was something off, but finding what it was through the whirlwind of constant motion around him was difficult, playing havoc with his depth perception.

But there was a shape there, like a mirage. It was akin to finding the vase between the lovers' faces. It was seeing absence instead of the thing, the empty space of an unused picture frame.

The absence of petals drifted right, and Snake's gaze followed. Then, with silver trumpets and _O, Fortuna_ and the bracing kickback of a high-caliber rifle melted into his voice, he growled, "Gotcha."

Hal must have heard him, because the figure vanished, and Snake lost sight of him, not completely acclimated to spotting him yet. But he knew what to look for this time. When Hal made a move to attack again, Snake managed to dodge and could almost hear Hal's surprise, see it in the way he froze for a moment before backing away quickly. Snake followed though, unsure if Hal would risk his location again and not willing to lose him for good. He stalked along after, stride long and just fast enough to keep up. It was predatory, a serpent hunting a rodent through a garden, and Hal had always been rather mousy.

From there, it was almost a dance. Snake trailed Hal diligently, blocking the occasional knife jab and using his rapier to cut off Hal's path just to watch him scramble away, changing direction. He was patient, enjoying the turned tables. He'd spent his time in the arena lost and hopeless. The part of him deep down, the one with that potential for poetic cruelty enjoyed the payback. Snake _hated_ being powerless. Now, he could pretend for a moment he wasn't.

Hal darted towards Snake, abrupt and reckless, taking another stab. Just as easily, Snake knocked his arm away. He didn't let Hal get away again this time though, grabbing his upper arm in a hard grip and throwing him down.

Hal hit the ground, rolling on the roses before coming to a stop on his back. He flickered back into view, looking winded. Just like that, the whirlwind around them stopped and petals rained down, no longer being carried skyward by the wind. They drifted down, between the two combatants, around them, some even resting gently in their hair and on their shoulders.

As Hal propped himself up on his elbows, one perfect rose hip landed on his collar and Snake pinned it there with his blade's point. "Nice cheat," he said, staring down at Hal.

"Evening the odds. W-wouldn't it be boring if every fight was the same?" Hal managed, voice rough as he slowly caught his breath again. "Games like that get repetitive."

"How many more tricks like that have you got planned?"

Hal just gave a small, candid smile. The lack of nervousness in his posture was foolish, Snake thought, all things considered. As a reminder, he pushed, forcing Hal back down flat, ignoring his little pained gasp. "Answer."

"Uh, ha, no, I-I don't think I will." His resolve was shaken slightly, less than Snake had wanted.

"To the victor go the spoils, Hal."

Hal snickered, blatantly unconcerned. "You haven't _won_ anything, David."

Snake's eyes narrowed. "You're not in the position to decide that right now."

"I'm still breathing," Hal countered and, with an audacity that astounded Snake, folded his hands behind his head as if for comfort.

Snake seethed for a moment. "One straight answer's beyond you. You _idiot_," he put his weight forward, onto his sword, and the rose petal it pinned dyed red as the rapier pierced down to the garden floor. Windpipe cut and with a twist of the sword, it was over again.

There was no pause. Hal didn't linger, body vanishing in the span of an eyeblink. Snake spun, lifting his sword, and Hal's katana clashed against it. The strike was heavier, stronger, and Snake finally had to work a little to fend Hal off. More than he should had to, really, considering his opponent was barely 140 pounds and lacked the muscle Snake had. Nevertheless, he was noticeably stronger, blow for blow.

They took turns striking and parrying for a few minutes before Snake aimed high and locked their swords together, both pushing the other away with nearly equal power. Snake found Hal's eyes between the blades. "You're better. I thought you had to beat your enemy to up your level."

"Level up, you mean," Hal replied, voice more strained from effort. It must have been a correction, though Snake didn't see much difference in the phrasing. "In old games, yeah, but modern ones can give cumulative experience."

"Is that's what's going on here?"

"Come on, Dave." Hal stepped back, breaking the standoff and barely avoiding the rapier's edge for his trouble. "There's more to this than... than _character stats_."

"I try to show interest in your hobbies and this is-" Snake's pithy remark was cut off by a charge from Hal. He was still alert and ready, so it was simple to knock the katana off its path. Hal's other hand held his knife and Snake almost found himself at the blade's end. He caught Hal's wrist with his free hand, dropping his rapier to grab Hal's sword hand too. "Hn, you're learning."

"Good teacher," Hal muttered back, grappling with Snake for all he was worth. Snake always would have the advantage of experience. While Hal drove him back a few inches, it only took a moment for Snake to twist Hal's arm and drive the knife into his own chest. Instantly, the fight went out of Hal and Snake let him go, so the man fell against his chest. With little ceremony, he lowered him to the ground, paying little mind to how Hal landed and how he died again. He knew he'd drove the knife into Hal's diaphragm and wondered distantly if he'd bleed out or if suffocation would be first. Both worked surprisingly fast.

Either way, he didn't wait to find out. He walked a few feet away and slammed his sword into the ground. With the precious seconds he had, he rested, wiping sweat from his brow and enjoying the chemicals and endorphins humming in his veins, sharpening his senses and preparing him to fight more. Usually, nanomachines regulated his body, fed him just enough to get the job done. Like this, he could drown in it. It'd been a long time since he'd had to fight without nanomachines. It was a different feeling. Dangerous and freer.

He remembered FOXHOUND and sparring with Fox. It was all for the pure rush of combat. It didn't matter who won or lost -- though it _did_ feel good to win -- just the joy of the exercise.

Snake's lips twisted into a faint, nostalgic smirk when he faced Hal again. "Have I won yet?" Hal frowned, as if he didn't follow the thread of the conversation. "Are you going to tell me the rules of this game this time?"

Hal looked... there wasn't a single word for it, the blending, swirling mix of bewilderment, resignation, and some sort of triumph. He approached Snake, katana at the ready, urging Snake to drop into a defensive stance as well. "What happens if I don't?"

"You haven't figured that out yet?"

Hal slid his katana along the rapier, not yet attacking. "Please. I... want to hear you say it."

Snake's grin went a little wolfish. "I'll just win again. I'll wear you down eventually."

"David," Hal murmured, soft voice somehow loud over the clang of metal as he clashed their swords together. "This is your dream, isn't it?" He aimed high, and Snake blocked easily, swinging down fast, almost knocking the katana free. "Nothing's more rewarding and visceral." Hal arched his back, the rapier just barely missing his head with that strike. "You can spar and play all you want." Hal deflected, feigned, and dove closer, still speaking in the same solicitous, anxious tone. "It's just a game, isn't it, David?"

The words finally made it through the haze of adrenaline saturating Snake's mind and his body shuddered with the force of the revelation. "You..." He croaked out before his voice failed. Everything he might have said, every rebuttal and refusal that came to mind was too washed up in the tide of disgust and awe and _anger_, at himself, but also at Hal, for doing this, for knowingly getting him to-

He'd done it again. He _knew_ the way this lotus dream worked and yet he was so easily conned into the same patterns. His jaw tensed, emotion barely contained. "Damnit, you... Get away from me, you fraud, get-"

"No, don't do this, David, not again." Hal fisted a hand in Snake's collar, holding on despite Snake's efforts to get away, to shove him off. "You _can't_ keep doing this every time- This is what you _want_, isn't it?" His voice broke just slightly, disheartened, like he was failing at something. Everything he did was contradictory, his motives shrouded. For all his underhanded methods, he seemed ashamed.

Snake's body was still geared for battle and it was taking most of his willpower to _not hurt Hal_. Snake wanted so dearly to punch him, to drive him back as far as he could, to make him pay for doing this again, for daring to wear the face of his partner even after this. For inciting Snake's sympathies with his broken open expression. "Move, or I'll-"

"You'll what? _Hurt_ me?" Hal was too close, like he was challenging Snake. "Oh, _David_. Can't you do anything else?" His breath was warm, fanning over Snake's cheek. "Anything besides that?" His actions and words were at war with each other. His tone was hesitant, curious, and even pitying, like he already knew each answer but wanted desperately to let Snake prove him wrong. At the same time, he pushed and pushed, until Snake was constantly backing away, trying anything to ignore his pleading, wavering voice, aware that this was going to go just as badly as all the other times because he'd let Hal have this control over him again. He hadn't learned anything and was hardly listening yet doing nothing but, the words clear but not penetrating. "I know you. You're not- not _just_ a weapon. Prove it, please, just..."

Hal punctuated this by yanking Snake forward and kissing him, merciless and hard.

For a moment, everything stopped. The two didn't move, Hal waiting and Snake reeling from shock. Hal made a quiet, distressed sound, curling his free hand around Snake's neck, grip firm, and pulling him down further. The first wet touch of Hal's mouth sent icy fear sliding through his bones and he jerked back, trying to get away. Hal didn't let him get far, insistent and open-mouthed, preying on all the confusion and mixed feelings and exhilaration that had yet to fade from his bones. Hal kissed like he fought, determined yet playful, imperfect and wonderfully him in every movement. He teased the same way, making Snake yield to his enigmatic goals, making him comply. What's more, he made him _want_ to comply, to follow Hal to the end of the world and back. Snake stopped pulling back and instead dropped his sword, holding onto Hal and kissing back like he could win benediction for all the times he'd wronged him. Hal was hardly resistant to Snake's increasingly bold delving into his mouth, but Snake couldn't resist wrapping an arm around his chest, pushing them together hard enough it almost hurt. There was no space between them, no room for fighting, just Hal letting Snake make his own apologies.

Then it tasted like copper. Hal's little pleased sounds turned to little pained sounds, and Snake broke apart and looked down.

Hal's sword was still pressed between them. Snake had hardly noticed the dull edge against his chest, but the sharp edge...

Hal smiled and shut his eyes, close enough Snake felt his lashes against his face. "Sorry. Didn't want to say an-anything and ruin the moment." He coughed, covering his mouth with a hand. Muffled and thready, he continued, "Mm, m-maybe next time, huh?"

Like he'd expended his energy all at once, Hal fell, sudden enough that Snake only barely managed to catch him, seizing his shirt and lowering him gently to the ground. The motion was getting almost like a routine. He knelt down and neither spoke as Hal shut his eyes and died again, peaceful and subdued.

Snake stared down at him, gaze dull and unfocused, not shifting even after Hal's body vanished. For a long time, Snake was alone, sitting in the bloodied roses, cutting himself up in his own way.

This wasn't real. It was an entire world devoted to breaking him somehow, hurting him in its insidious, maliciously kind ways. He hadn't meant to hurt Hal then, quite the opposite. That was an accident- _another_ accident. He hadn't been paying enough attention.

But it still hurt. Guilt burned like embers in his chest, and he stoked the fire as he calmed down and looked over his transgressions and innumerable mistakes. He wanted to blame Hal, but found he couldn't manage it. Hal was just giving him opportunities. It wasn't his fault Snake kept taking them.

Every. Single. Time.

Snake let out a low, prolonged sigh, feeling so very old in that instant. Felt very much like a liar, more of a fake than his reappearing companion. It seemed like yesterday that he'd been told this was all he could be. Snake meandered to the edge of the arena and sat down, legs hanging off the precipice as he lost himself in his recollections. Out of a pocket came a worn, wrinkled pack of cigarettes, sorely needed, if only to occupy his hands so he wouldn't pull out his hair in frustration.

He'd said he'd only had one fight left in him. That he was free of the battlefield's grip. That he _loved life_.

He lit a cigarette and sighed smoke a moment later. If he loved life, he had a sick way of showing it.

He'd been wrong. Off the battlefield, he lived a half-life. He took on the Shadow Moses mission to get away from his life free of bloodshed. He agreed to join Philanthropy to help, but also to avoid an empty life in the barren cold of Alaska. He'd _enjoyed_ this fighting with Hal, the way he was unlike any other opponent. If Hal hadn't forced him to realize what he was doing, rationalizing the constant cycle of rejuvenation, battle, and death into a game, he might have kept going.

If the cycle was unbroken, how many more times would he have run Hal through like he was nothing?

Snake rubbed his face tiredly and left his hand rest over his eyes, trying very hard not to let himself answer that question.

"You look horrible."

It baffled Snake that after everything, Hal still could sound so worried and sympathetic.

"Hal, I can't. Not after that. Just go, please," and it was hard to make it not sound like a plea.

"I know. It's pretty obvious." Hal knelt beside him, sitting down and joining him at the end of their little world. "Here."

Snake looked over and saw Hal's benevolent grey eyes watching him with concern and his clean, pale hands holding out a bottle of water. Snake realized that he could still taste Hal's blood in his mouth, cloying and sickly sweet in his mouth. He almost gagged from it. Instead, he accepted the bottle and tried to wash out his mouth, drinking half the bottle in mere seconds. It helped, not perfect but definitely better.

"What now, Hal?" He was suspicious, waiting for the catch attached to Hal's offering, grateful though he was.

"Now? We rest a bit, I think." Hal reached out, putting a hand on Snake's leg. "I'm not going to attack you. You don't look like you'd quite survive another round right now."

He was doubtlessly correct and Snake nodded, letting his guard down and looking out across the sky in front of them and below their feet. The silence wasn't comfortable, but it wasn't awkward enough that either tried to break it for a long time.

The bottle was drained by the time Snake asked, "Why did you kiss me?"

Hal looked over at him with surprise, like he'd forgotten Snake was there. "Hm? Oh, that." His head dropped, gaze in his lap as he fidgeted and colored slightly. "It's, ah... Complicated."

Snake nodded. "Orders from on high?"

Hal frowned quickly. "What? No!" Softer, "You really think I'd do that?"

"I don't know you, but that sort of thing seems to fit into whatever you're trying to do."

"You don't know me?" Hal was equal measures indignant and stricken. "How could you say that?"

Snake twisted and stared Hal down, reminding him through a clenched jaw, "You are _not_ Hal Emmerich."

"Oh." Hal broke away from Snake's haze, the contemplative crease to his brow giving the impression he hadn't thought of that. Voice pensive, empathetic, he said, susurrous, "I guess that makes sense, for you anyway."

"And not for you?" Snake said, less a honest inquiry, more a chiding remark.

Hal's response surprised him. "Well, no, not really." He shrugged and swung his feet to and fro over the abyss, childlike in that way Hal always seemed when he couldn't put his thoughts into words as easily as he'd like. "I'm a program, a construct of the simulation. We both know that. I don't have any memories, just information I've been given, things I know because I'm programmed to know, I guess." He paused, gathering himself as he nudged up his glasses. "But... I'm Hal. It's all I am. It's not like, I don't know, a- a mask to take on and off. I'm Hal Emmerich and I've always been him."

"You're no more Hal than I am Big Boss," Snake said, the bite to his tone missing.

"I'm not a clone or an offspring. I'm... Erm, I'm not entirely sure since that's not something they explained, but I'm a copy, or a recreation, maybe. Something about my work at ArmsTech in VR machines, neural snapshots, extrapolation from there. You know, it's funny," or not, as Hal's smile was mostly humorless, "I know everything about my life, my family, my career, meeting you, Shadow Moses. I know all about it, but it's weird. I know what desk I worked at in my lab, but I couldn't tell you what color the walls were or if my chair was comfortable."

Snake muttered around his cigarette, "Raw info. You know the base's layout, but you've never been there."

"Yeah, it seems like." Hal leaned closer to Snake, eyes imploring. "But that doesn't mean I don't care. I'm not just a bunch of code and processes. I'm still me." Snake rolled his eyes slightly. "What? Why do I not count? Didn't you feel sad when you killed me? What's so different?"

"You're a computer thing, not a person," Snake replied, the obvious answer.

"A construct. And... So? I-I bleed and feel pain and care about you, just like he does."

"You can't really care, Hal."

Hal hit him hard in the shoulder. "I always knew you could be insensitive, but this is... Don't you understand?" He looked away again, eyes tightly shut as he inhaled and exhaled slowly, trying to keep calm. "You're... God, David, you're _everything_. Literally, everything I have." A shuddery sigh. "I... Don't have anything else. Without you, I'm useless. I have no purpose. When you're not here, I," his voice faltered, muted and reticent. "I don't exist. I die, and I don't come back." He didn't look at Snake, pulling up a knee and resting his chin on it, looking out ahead of them and nowhere else. "These fights, they hurt every time. Death isn't painless, that's for certain. But pain's better than oblivion. And you... you're a lot better than oblivion, Dave." He grinned. "Easily much better."

Snake's mouth was suddenly very dry and looking at Hal was painful. "I didn't realize."

"Yeah, I, uh. I'm a single purpose process, I guess. When you get out of here, that's..."

"The end of your world," Snake supplied blankly.

"Kind of stuff nightmares are made of. Assuming I can have nightmares." He looked up. "I hope so."

Snake didn't know what to make of it. Hal would cease to exist when the Hal on the outside busted Snake out. There was no frame of reference for something like that, to being wholly dependent on another person, completely devoid of control. Hal's situation was one to be pitied, even more than Snake's. But Hal wasn't a merciful overload of this arena. He manipulated Snake, made him fight useless battles and follow some covert set of orders. If there was one thing Snake was sick of, it was having to obey dishonest people. He'd had enough of that.

Hal may have cared about Snake, but he had a mission and he was following it, presumably to the letter. No amount of twisted affection was going to make him spare Snake. And what was more, he couldn't and wouldn't help him.

"Selfish, isn't it?" Hal murmured, like he was reading Snake's mind. "As much as I want to give you what you want, I'm afraid." His voice was very close to inaudible, laying himself out for Snake. "I don't want you to leave. I don't want to _die_." He laughed bitterly. "Guess that confirms it. You're the better man."

Snake took his time taking another drag of his cigarette, enjoying the long slow plume of smoke before carefully setting it down on the rim of the platform, where rose vine stopped and a lip of marble stone wrapped around. He picked up his rapier, shifting his grip on it, one-handed, until it was relaxed but secure.

Then, with a serene ferocity, he swung sideway with all his might, catching Hal in the chest and sending him flat on his back with a loud cry that was closest he'd gotten to a scream yet.

Picking up his cigarette again, he set it between his lips, staring into the abyss like nothing happened. "No, Hal. I'm not."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snake was not thinking clearly, mixing up what was reality. A VR couldn't recreate these things, couldn't be this vivid and visceral. The border between real and false was blurring.

Snake had been in the VR thirty-eight hours when his step faltered. In the middle of a charge towards Hal, his leg buckled under his weight and he dropped to a kneel, gasping for breath. He just barely managed to lift his sword to deflect Hal's oncoming strike, only surviving because Hal himself pulled back on it when he realized Snake was down.

Even then, it was enough to push Snake over, sprawled on his back. Physically, he was ready to go, fresh off another of the VR's restorations that gave him back his stamina and healed his injuries. Despite that, trying to just sit up was a battle. Trying to gather his strength was counterproductive- the more he tried to hold on, the more power leaked out of him.

Giving up, he relaxed against the flora, just taking deep breaths. As deeply as he inhaled, it felt as though he just couldn't get enough oxygen. It was too tight in his own skin.

Hal knelt next to him, gaze clouded with concern. His hand reached out and cupped Snake's neck, thumb over his pulse. "Asking if you were okay would be pointless I'm guessing."

"Just... give me a moment." Keeping still was helping. He just needed that lie down.

"You're pale," Hal observed quietly. To demonstrate, he plucked a white petal from one of the myriad roses and set it on Snake's nose. "You could blend in if you wanted."

"Hn." Responding would require effort Hal's remark didn't really deserve. He blew the petal away. "I'm not at my best. You want an award for spotting that one?"

"Tetchy too, huh?" Hal shifted from kneeling to sitting, tucking one knee under his chin in what Snake figured was his personal thinking pose. "There must be some way to help."

"I'm not the one with all the power here," Snake pointed out, then took another breath before he could go on. "You are, so what do you expect from me?"

"Hm." Hal tipped his head back, looking skyward. "I'll see what I can do." And he was gone, physically there next to Snake, but mentally away, wherever his MCP was stationed.

Snake watched disinterestedly. Hal looked like a lightning rod waiting for a strike. Which was fine. That was infinitely better than the Hal that looked like a boy that stumbled upon a battlefield and discovered he was a natural shot.

He was feeling marginally better but no where near a hundred percent when Hal smiled down at him. "Want a break?"

"Sure," Snake said with heavy skepticism.

"Hold still then." Hal grabbed a handful of petals and leaned over Snake. "I mean it." He laid them over Snake's eyes, blocking out the sky with white.

Snake growled, annoyed. "I don't appreciate getting jerked around, Hal--" But suddenly his eyes were wet and freezing and he jerked, rolling onto his side and brushing the petals away from his face.

But they weren't petals anymore. It was snow, already melting in his hand. Shaking the flakes of it from his face, he looked around.

The scenery changed, and after so long looking at flowers and skies and not a lot else, it was startling to find himself in another place for once. The rose garden that had been his life for the last day or so was now a snowy field. In the distance was a horizon dotted with trees, something he'd missed. He couldn't tear his attention from them for a moment, marveling at the relief that accompanied that slice of normality. But there was a closer sight in the form of a cabin only a few yards away. It was rustic, the mix-matched wood which made the walls was worn but sturdy. In the low light of the snowy evening, it almost looked blue.

It was while Snake was still taking everything in that the cold hit like a slap in the face. The wind switched directions and frigid, dry air blew into him, making him shudder. It was overwhelming with the gashes cut into his suit rendering its heat-sealing properties useless. The shock of it brought him to his feet, knocking snow off his figure.

"Oh, I was hoping they'd forget th-that detail," Hal said beside him, wrapping his arms around himself. "Let's go in, David, it's freezing." Without waiting, he trudged off, steps heavy and loud as he stomped through the snow.

Snake had an easier time ignoring the biting chill and found himself staring at the horizon again, namely the trees he saw there. They were naught but dead branches creaking under the weight of the ice clinging to the bark, but they were still better than a blue abyss.

He took a step in that direction, away from the cabin and the promise of warmth. The idea of space to move and breathe in was far more tempting at the moment. He heard Hal call his name, but if anything, the sound urged him on towards the trees.

A minute of steady, long strides and Snake's feet were numb from wet cold and he was still a long way off from the treeline. It felt like he'd walked a hundred feet, but when he glanced back, he found the cabin and Hal very close by. It was as though he'd never taken a step away from them.

Hal was watching him patiently. "You want to come in now? Please?" He was still hugging himself tightly and there was a consistent shiver raking through his posture.

"What's going on?"

"It's a loop. You aren't getting any closer to those trees. You could walk for a day and you wouldn't be any closer."

"Then why are they even there?" Snake snarled. The hope of his leash being loosened was painfully crushed.

"I didn't design this, don't ask me. I just know it's cold. Come on," Hal's tone edged closer to whining. "I hate it out here. I'm turning to ice."

Snake sighed and walked back, accompanying Hal across the field. "You lived in Alaska."

"So what? I got assigned there. If I could have been in Maui instead, I would have been." Hal's teeth were almost audibly chattering. "I hate the cold, always have. One week, the heating in the REX project labs broke down and I stayed home for the duration. Refused to work." Hal grinned sheepishly. "I got written up for that, but when you're head designer, they can't really do much to you."

The cabin's door lacked a lock, not having much reason for one, and Hal opened it without pause when they reached it. Snake followed, taking in the interior as Hal fought with his half-frozen boot laces to get his shoes off. It was dimly lit inside; a stark contrast from the blinding whiteness of the outside. Once his eyes adjusted, he could see a small but comfortable living area with a fireplace and beyond it a small kitchen. A door leading to a bedroom was ajar, and another next to it was to room with tiled floors. Probably a bathroom.

What struck him the most was not the sudden scenery change as much as it was the degree of change. The rose arena had be brilliant and crisp, made of vibrant color gels and sharp lines. Unlike the arena, the cabin had shadows and muddled, desaturated tones of brown, black, and auburn. It was more like home than any VR he'd seen, similar to his Alaskan home in all the ways that mattered. He didn't quite know how to react: Relax under the onslaught on familiarity or tense more in recognition that his captors really had him pegged.

Hal touched his back, pulling him from his musings. "Hey, are you just going to stand there? You don't know how long they'll let us rest."

Snake stared hard at Hal's face, trying to read him for signs of deception, for any clues. "How do I know this isn't another trick?"

Hal shrugged. "Maybe it is. How would that be different from anything else so far?" He gave Snake a gentle push further into the cabin. "Only one way to find out."

"Hn." Snake stood still long enough to make sure Hal knew he was moving at his own volition, not Hal's urging, but did walk around, examining the place and taking the sort of quick, mental inventory an OSP expert was compelled to. Upon finding a linen cabinet, Snake's entire body seemed to twinge in a synchronized ache. A hot shower would help the constant throb in his muscles, leftovers from continuous fighting and strain. The occasional physical reset that he received when he was bleeding or bruised too much to continue didn't get rid of all his fatigue.

"Oh, good idea," Hal chimed in, watching Snake pull a towel from the linens. "You do that, I think I'll start a fire. Or try to. Can't be too difficult, right?" He grinned and wandered over to the fireplace, pulling away the grate and frowning thoughtfully at the small pile of wood near the hearth.

That was the dealmaker for Snake, who felt he could do with some time away from Hal.

The water was blissfully hot from the first spray. Steam was already slowly rising from the floor of the stall when Snake started peeling off his clothes. His suit had several rips cutting the material, enough to make him worry how salvageable it would be and if he'd be able to get it back on in its condition. But it was all just data, or a "construct," a term Hal bandied around often. His shoulders and chest were clung to by thread made of ones and zeros. His body itself was ones and zeros; his mind was the only real part of it.

Snake shook his head hard, refocusing on the task of getting his clothes off. The fact that most of this wasn't real was neither news or that important in the long run. That's what he continued to tell himself, like a trusted mantra, as he stripped. He didn't bother trying to fold his suit, leaving the partly shredded fabric piled on the floor as he climbed into the shower and shut the fogged-glass door behind him.

The first blast of liquid heat was an epiphany, immediately scalding his shoulder even as it soothed the tenseness there. Snake groaned deep in his throat, ducking his head and moving directly under the stream. Water poured down, sliding through his hair, sluicing down his skin and to the floor, dragging stiffness and lingering dirt with it. He exhaled heavily, a ragged sigh that felt bottled inside since he'd first smelled the flood of roses around him. He'd been so used to the nauseating floral aroma that the steam and clean water were revelations, fresh and revitalizing.

Much more tranquil, Snake leaned his forehead against the cool tile wall as the shower pounded on his back. For a moment, he was back home, before Shadow Moses, before Philanthropy. The huskies were outside sleeping after a long training run for the Iditarod, the cabin was locked down for the night, and Snake was just enjoying the solitude. It was as close to perfect as life could get.

"It's like a steam room in here," Hal remarked, and Snake realized he'd been waiting for the interruption. This was almost routine.

"Didn't hear you come in." Snake didn't look back at the man, instead setting to the task of washing up.

"Maybe you were too off your guard to hear me. Or maybe I just appeared. Doesn't matter in the long run, does it?" He seemed slightly amused by the thought. "Anyway. I brought clothes."

Snake didn't respond for a long time. He soaped up, washed his hair, and stood under the water indulgently before replying, "You could just leave them there."

"You want me out? That's... uncharacteristically bashful of you."

Snake glared at the dark, Hal-ish shape through the glass. "How would you know? You have no way of knowing something like that."

"And yet I do," Hal said with confidence. His tone softened though. "If you really want, I can leave. This time is supposed to be a sort of recharge for you. If I'm not... Should I go?"

Snake sighed, rinsing soap from his hair and offering no direction to Hal. The water went off and Snake shook his head like a dog, droplets hitting the tile and glass from the force of it. With a deep, bracing inhale, he pushed the door open and stepped out. He grabbed a towel, tossing it over his head to roughly dry his damp hair. Belatedly, he glanced sideways at Hal, who was sitting nearby, both his hands over his eyes. He was smiling and humming to himself.

Snake rolled his eyes, brusquely drying himself off before snatching the carefully folded clothes that were sitting on Hal's lap. "You think you're being cute?"

"You don't?" He pouted, mock hurt under his overlaid fingers. "Am I doing it wrong?"

A military tan shirt and worn green camo pants were all he got. Somehow, he doubted Hal had chosen them, silently suspecting the overseers. He was gaining a strong impression of them despite not knowing who they were or what they wanted. Dressed in the somewhat unflattering military garb, he saw Hal was still sitting there the same way. He reached out, tugging his hands away from his face. "Enough."

"I'll take that as a yes," Hal muttered.

"Take it however you want," Snake replied coldly, making his way back into the living room. There was a crackling fire burning, radiating heat across the room and chasing away the chill. Tired, Snake moved to a sofa near the fireplace and collapsed onto it in an untidy, loose sprawl.

Hal hovered nearby, looking down at Snake. "For someone meant to be relaxing, you seem really tense." Snake didn't offer any response. "Is it me?"

The shift from playful to caring again was jarring, like a switch in Hal had been flipped. "Why does it matter to you?"

"You matter to me. We've been over this." Hal looked away, the memory of that particular talk fresh in both their minds. Shaking his head, he sighed. "I'll be right back."

Snake watched him drift off to the kitchen and didn't let himself feel regret over his curtness. The sofa was undeniably comfortable though and his guard dropped some as he sank back against it. He still trailed Hal's movements, noting with some satisfaction the lack of katana slung at his hip. That hardly meant Hal wasn't a threat, but it was something.

The hot shower hadn't roused him at all, but left him overheated and tired instead of cold and tired. More than anything, he wanted to close his eyes and not open them until Hal- the real Hal- was rescuing him from this machine. He already knew with bitter certainty that wasn't going to happen. As long as he stayed away and resisted real rest, he could stall. Eventually he would pass out, but not just yet.

Hal returned carrying two ceramic mugs in his hands. "Here. It's some kind of tea that'll help you rest. Jasmine or something." He sat down again and waved a mug at Snake until he took it.

Snake waited for Hal to take a long drink of the tea before having a small sip himself and setting his mug aside. It was hot enough he barely tasted it, any complexities of the flavor lost.

"Don't like it?" Hal smiled at Snake over the rim of his mug, curling up catlike on the sofa, a picture of calm, inviting warmth.

Snake stared back at Hal, watching his reaction as he replied, "Waiting to see if it's poisoned."

He wasn't disappointed. Hal's face fell, his mouth open in quiet surprise for a second. "You..." He looked away sharply, obviously hurt or playing it well. "It's not. I have no idea why you'd think something like that."

"Might have something to do with the fact we've been fighting almost constantly for our entire time in here."

"But we're not fighting _now_!" Hal shook his head like he could unhear Snake's words if he put enough force behind it. "I didn't think you'd mistrust your partner so."

Snake rolled his eyes and gulped down some scalding tea to stop an instinctive, cruel response. In a quiet growl, "You are not my partner. You're... pieces of him slapped together. He's caring and... teasing and strong, You can't be more than one at a time, can you? It's like you just shuffle through settings."

By then, Hal looked grievously upset, eyes wide and damp as he stared at Snake. "I-I..."His voice broke and Hal gave a shuddering sigh before trying again. "I'm trying. I know I'm not flawless because wh-what's a bunch of processes next to a real person, right? But I..." He swiped at his eyes quickly, trying to subtly dry them. "I do care, David. And I'm _not_ 'shuffling through settings,' it's not like that. I don't know what it _is_ like because this is me, and I don't know how to- I mean, you probably don't even know how to find the C drive, how can I explain this to you?"

It was perhaps sadistic of him, but Snake was oddly reassured seeing the copy tear up in the same way the real Hal would. Provoking Hal gave him some solace, though the guilt he felt over it wasn't insignificant. Sighing, he relented and touched Hal's shoulder. "It's all right."

"What about any of this is?" Hal laughed hollowly, but his face was no longer so tight with pain, so it was a step forward in Snake's book.

Hal had a point and it was good to hear it from him of all people. Hal knowing this was all insane and unnatural made him somewhat more real. And as true as that was, Snake was caring less and less. Dealing with Hal's emotional outbursts wasn't something he was unaccustomed to, but it was draining this time. All he wanted to do was sleep.

Speaking of, Hal's hand touched Snake's, lacing their fingers in a loose tangle, and murmured, "You look wiped. More so than I've ever see you."

Unable to resist the urge, Snake asked, "Even after Manhattan Harbor?"

Hal's smile was tinged with sadness again. So many of his smiles were. "I don't remember what you looked like then. I just remember being scared."

That made sense, but offered no reassurance to Snake like he'd hoped for. This Hal didn't pull him out of the water nor watched over him as he recovered, but the resigned, worried look was the same that the real Hal gave him whenever something reminded him of that torrential night and the days that followed.

Snake stood, his hand sliding out of Hal's with some subconscious reluctance. _It was nice to pretend_, he thought, then chalked the idea up to weariness. "I need to sleep."

"You do." Hal nodded to the bedroom. "I threw some extra blankets on the bed to help with the chill."

"I'm used to the cold."

Hal stood up, leaving his half-finished tea on the side table. "I'm not though. I hate the cold when I'm trying to sleep."

Snake paused on his way to the bedroom and looked back, arching an eyebrow at Hal. "You're going to sleep?" Then, the obvious question: "You can sleep?"

"Laptops and PCs can hibernate. Many advanced programs have low-energy modes to conserve power. It's similar to sleep. So, I think I can." Hal looked uncertain, but there was a keen gleam in his eyes.

"... You _want_ to sleep?"

"I told you. I have a chance to see what a nightmare might feel like. I want to try." He waved his hands impatiently. "Come on, you're blocking the way."

The bedroom was nothing of note. A nightstand with an antiquated lamp on it, thick curtains drawn over the only window to block out the brightness of the outdoors, and a bed that was covered in a thick layer of blankets and comforters. Not quite spartan, but not as homey as the rest of the cabin. At the very least, the bed was decent, not dipping too much under his weight when he sat on it. Glancing at Hal, he saw him working on pulling off some of his clothes, focus away from Snake.

Snake tugged his shirt off and tossed it on the unused lamp. The camo pants were left on the floor as he got into bed, frowning at the first bite of cold sheets against his body. Of all the little details for the VR to replicate indeed... He sighed and stretched out, trying to warm up as much of the bed as he could.

Hal climbing in beside him was a surprise for some reason. Sharing with him hadn't seemed so real a minute ago. The extra heat was welcome though.

"Well... goodnight," Hal said quietly from beside Snake.

Curiosity too strong to ignore, Snake waited until he heard Hal's breathing even out in deep slumber before allowing himself to do the same.

* * *

  
Snake woke some time later from a dreamless sleep. It might've been ten minutes or five hours later. The scenery was completely unchanged with light still trying to pour in past the heavy curtains, offering no clue to how long he'd rested. He felt fairly refreshed though, the exhaustion from before gone. However long he'd been out, he'd gotten a good recharge.

Interestingly, Hal was still in deep slumber next to him. Judging by the way his eyes flickered and moved under his lids, Hal's emulation of sleep was accurate enough to grant him a REM cycle and possibly the dreams that went with it.

_All intelligent beings dream. No one knows why._ Hal had guessed as much. Did that make him more like Chandra than HAL?

Snake smirked at the thought, amused. He wondered if Hal would laugh if he mentioned the line to him, as he doubtlessly would have outside the VR. For the moment, he just let Hal sleep, seeing no gain from waking him. They'd be back in their arena soon anyway.

As he waited for that to happen, Snake sat up in the bed and looked around for something to occupy his time besides Hal's dreams of electric sheep. The room was almost barren, but there was that nightstand next to him. Hal's glasses were carefully folded on top of it, and he left them alone. Instead, he slowly opened the drawer of the table, quiet as he could. Surprisingly, it wasn't empty at all. There was a clutter of items inside. The first that caught his eye was a pack of cigarettes he availed himself of before taking in the rest of the mess. There was, of all things, a Gideon Bible laying inside, half-covered in condoms and a thin phonebook. Snake assumed it was a joke of some kind; his captors had shown their intimate knowledge of Snake already, so they must have known he wasn't particularly religious.

The phonebook was food for thought as well. An inquiring glance inside found just the same digits printed over and over across all the pages. It took a second to recognize it as the number to the only phone in Philanthropy's current safe house. So his benefactors quite literally had his number. Funny.

Snake sat there, deep in contemplation for a long time, going through two cigarettes before being struck with the question of why he was still there. He was rested, ready again for combat, and yet still stuck in a mock-Alaskan cabin. Hal had mentioned not knowing how long they'd be allowed to rest, implied it was a limited opportunity.

Then why was he still here?

Snake looked sideways and watched the digital clone, how the thick padding of blankets lifted and fell with every breath he took. If there was one thing he'd been forced to learn about this, it was that this simulation enjoyed its little cues. Causality was an unceasing wheel driving the exercise forward. And it tended to like one cue above all others.

As oddly adept at combat as he was, Hal was still Hal, and his sleep was habitually deep. It was easy for Snake to smash his cigarette into the nightstand in lieu of a real ashtray, then lean over him. Hal slid close, head resting on the arm Snake was using to hold himself up, but slept on. His free hand drifted down under the bedclothes, feeling along for Hal's hip, then lower. He suspected it had to be there; the idea of leaving Hal completely unarmed was dangerous and missing a real opportunity to hurt Snake.

Sure enough, there was a strap wound around Hal's lower leg, a sheath that would normally be obscured by a boot. As he expected, there was a cool metal grip there. A slow, careful pull was all he needed to draw Hal's knife out from under the covers.

How was it planned to happen? Was Hal going to attack him upon waking, making Snake cut him through in self-defense? It had to be something like that, Snake thought. It always was. He didn't understand why so much of Hal's virtual blood had to be on his hands, but understanding was not necessary to recognize a pattern.

He could do it now.

He should do it now. It was a mercy of sorts, for both of them. Death during sleep was alleged to be the most painless way to go, and this way Snake wouldn't have to look into Hal's eyes as he faded away. It'd be better like this, to accept the inevitability and get it over with.

Snake ran the blade of the knife along Hal's exposed skin, tracing the curve of his jawline and the tendons in his neck like a slow caress.

It'd be a cheap shot, but Hal wasn't above tricks like the stealth camo, so Snake shouldn't be. Adjust to your enemy's style. Hal had called the battle correctly when he mentioned pragmatism.

He pressed, just a little bit, testing. The knife was sharp enough to do the job. A pinpoint of red appeared. It wouldn't take much, Snake told himself, the thought echoing around in his otherwise quiet mind.

Caught up in the silence in his own head, Snake almost missed the sharp inhale. His eyes shot up in surprise, locking with Hal's, dream-blown but very much awake.

There was no movement between then, a collective held breath. Hal stared at Snake and Snake stared back, knife still held to Hal's neck.

Hal's gaze dropped first and he sighed, soft and resigned. Shutting his eyes again, he tipped his head back against the bed, exposing the long line of his pale throat.

Snake hadn't known an act of surrender could kill, but this felt as close to dying as he'd ever felt. When he tried to tell Hal so, only a strangled, agonized moan escaped him. Taking a harsh breath, he lowered his head to rest against Hal's cheek, trying to regain his calm as it slid like sand through his fingers.

"Hush," Hal whispered and Snake felt his smaller hand wrap around Snake's wrist. "It's okay, David. Just..." Hal's hand guided the knife down-

"_Enough!_" Snake snarled, ripping his hand out of Hal's grasp. Pulling back, he threw the knife with all his pent-up rage behind it. There was a dull thud as it embedded itself in whatever it hit, but Snake didn't lift his head. He wanted to think that if he didn't move, stayed completely still, time would follow suit.

It wasn't so simple. He could hear Hal's heartbeat through his skin, fast and unsure. Snake lifted his head, looking down at Hal. He was so hurt and nervous, unsettled by Snake's actions in the same manner being stabbed should have caused yet never did. For Hal, being killed was routine. It was being spared that seemed to confuse him.

Spared, but not unscathed. Red was welling slowly under his chin, a slow, thin trickle of red painting his skin.

He'd spilled far more blood from Hal without being physically bothered, but the one line of blood gliding down Hal's neck made Snake feel ill. With his hand unsteady, he reached up, nudging Hal's chin with the back of his fingers. His head tipped back without resistance and before Snake could think about that disturbing subservience, he ran his hand through the blood, smearing and wiping it away. There was something intimate in the way Hal winced at Snake's thumb brushing the minuscule cut, something so small hurting him after what he'd lived through.

And what he didn't.

Snake's eyes stung suddenly and he squeezed them shut, more guilt rising, bitter on his tongue. On impulse, he leaned down, face against Hal's neck, and pressed his lips to the wound. Coppery liquid slowly collected against his mouth and he pushed harder, trying to stem the flow in what he knew was a very inefficient way. But he needed to do something to apologize, his throat too tight to say the words.

Hal was still below him and the lack of reaction drew Snake up, propped up on his arms, framing Hal's face. He stared down at him, taking in Hal's dull surprise and faraway expression. Snake recognized his face for the facade it was.

Wavering and unsure, Snake leaned down and kissed Hal, pressing his advantage and dragging his slick lips against Hal's with exaggerated slowness. Hal's eyes shut but Snake kept watching, hoping this wasn't a tragic misstep on his part. He'd had so many, had cut Hal down so many times. Hal had said it hurt every time, that Snake was worth it. He didn't feel worth it though and wondered if maybe he could pay back the pain somehow. He wasn't sure things worked that way, but his mouth was dragging over Hal's, copper taste fading more and more as he kept on, silently demanding the chance to find out.

Leaning on just one arm, Snake curled his hand over Hal's jaw. He tried to say with touch what he couldn't manage with words, litanies of apologies. He was about to give up when Hal's breath hitched, his body shivering. He moved, kissing Snake back with a building intensity, reluctance already a mere memory.

Hal gripped Snake's arms near the shoulders, simultaneously pulling himself up and Snake down. Obeying thoughtlessly, Snake pressed down against Hal, rewarded with a gasp against his mouth and a bruising embrace, like Hal was trying to push through his skin and have everything he wanted at once. Rapacious, but Snake didn't mind. If anything, it loosened something in him, some measure of restraint he couldn't remember ever losing hold of before these fights. Hal had seen that side of him, was very familiar with it, so Snake found little to stop him from accepting that possessive streak and acting on it.

He mouthed his way across Hal's skin, biting his jaw, pressing the flat of his tongue against his neck, feeling his heart racing through his pulse. Hal moaned thinly, mumbling encouragingly, words melting together into a barely coherent mess. His hands threaded and held tight to Snake's hair, greedy. It never occurred to him that Hal could be like this, the lack of graciousness and the raw want taking Snake off guard. He couldn't say it turned him off, though. Not in the least.

Hal's nails pushed enough to hurt against his skin, hands running down Snake's back, scratching lightly. It was a good feeling, having a little pain dealt back to him. A shudder broke through his body, halted abruptly with Hal's hands sliding under Snake's boxers, tracing the sharp curve of his hip. Snake tensed, trying to ignore how much that light touch was affecting him, how hard it was to breathe while Hal hadn't really _touched_ him, dexterous hands nowhere near his erection.

Needing to focus on something else, Snake looked up at Hal for a moment. His gaze was on his hands, watching everything he was doing. His expression was bemused, also detached, an effect ruined by his eyes, dark and half-lidded as he learned the contours of Snake's frame by feel. He was almost calm.

Snake desperately wanted to shake that. Hal was forcing arousal and pleasure into him with every brush of his hands like every fight and clash was forgotten and unimportant. He should be hurting Snake more, breaking skin and making him bleed for what he'd done. Snake _wanted_ him too. But Hal refused to rise (sink?) to Snake's level and that burned in him as brightly as the pleasure. It was frustrating, made him wonder if he could push Hal enough that he would. Through the fog filling his mind, he could still consider what it would take.

Hal arched up, pressing a small kiss against Snake's mouth as one of his hands finally curled around Snake, stroking feather-light from base to tip. Snake bit his lip and instinctively thrust into this hand to find some friction, but Hal's grip was too loose to reward him. Hal bit his lower lip, pulling Snake with him as he lay back again, kissing languidly. "Are you here?"

Snake jerked at the next agonizingly slow pull of his cock. "What?"

Hal smiled and asked against the corner of his mouth. "Are you here right now, or somewhere else?"

Snake tried very hard to meet Hal's eyes. It was difficult as they kept trying to roll upward in pleasure. "You... have my full attention."

Hal nuzzled his face sweetly, as if he wasn't being a punishing tease simultaneously. "'m glad," he mumbled. "Really glad." He pulled Snake down into a slow, deep kiss, open and wet. It was a needed distraction from how painfully hard Snake was and he poured his frustration out into Hal's mouth, fighting for dominance against Hal and winning. Soon Hal was having trouble bottling up his urgent, heated moans, and in unison they reached out to rid each other of the lingering burden of clothes.

Hal's hand immediately went back to its steady, unwavering strokes, making a convincing argument to Snake that Hal was a complete bastard. Before Snake could point this out, Hal's hand stilled, just holding Snake but for his thumb rubbing the head in slow circles. Snake swore, shaking slightly as the immediacy of his orgasm faded.

"D-damnit, Hal."

"I know, hush," Hal soothed. He moved again, this time lifting his legs to hook over Snake's hips, ankles crossed and body even more exposed below Snake. Then he just looked at him, seeming to gauge his reaction. Less than a whisper, "Please?"

Snake swallowed hard and nodded curtly before crushing Hal's mouth with his own, demanding and somewhat out of control. One hand extended, yanking open the bedside drawer to shuffle inside.

The clutter had vanished, leaving only a plastic tube and some superfluous foil wrappers. Snake lifted himself up on his arms in surprise, confirming the only contents of the drawer before fixing his agitated gaze on Hal. "Is this... Is this part of their plan?"

Hal shook his head, cheeks flushed and eyes wide and upset. "I... I don't know. David, _please_," he moaned thinly, grabbing Snake's arm and slowly drawing him back down. He kissed him, tongue gliding over Snake's lips, silently pleading with him. Every motion of his body was colored by desperation and Snake folded, sighing and giving in, kissing Hal back and no longer pretending this wasn't exactly what he wanted to be doing.

Hal grabbed the tube from the drawer blindly and his touch returned to Snake's cock slick and cool. There was so much natural grace in his hands and Snake found himself panting and hard again soon, thrusting into the circle of Hal's fingers. He could get off on that alone, but he couldn't be that selfish, especially not now.

He grabbed Hal's wrist, pulling him away and pinning him down to the bed. From there, with Hal curved under him, it was just a matter of lining up and pushing further and further, breath hitching as he eased in. Hal tossed his head back against the pillows, hair fanning out into a dusty halo, groans catching in his throat as he shook and squeezed Snake's hands back.

Hal yielded so easily, too easily, though maybe for him, Hal would be so open and eager and arching into the tight slide, eyes wide and unfocused. It was too good.

Snake was not thinking clearly, mixing up what was reality. Everything _felt_ real, the perfect texture of skin, the air around them chilled but heavy, the dull warm taste on his tongue. A VR couldn't recreate these things, couldn't be this vivid and visceral. The border between real and false was blurring.

The rising worry didn't get a sturdy hold on Snake's attention. He couldn't keep a thread on it over the keening, disjointed cries and the cresting wave of Hal moving back against him, freeing his hands and clutching Snake's back minutely tighter with every sharp thrust. Pleasure was suffocating every thought in Snake's head that didn't involve Hal and the plunging into him over and over. This was where he was supposed to be, giving Hal exactly what he wanted and more, finding that spot in him and using an impenetrable hold on his hip to push in hard and rock against it. Hal's hands slammed against the headboard to brace himself and he let out a strangled shout, his entire figure tensing. Snake bowed his head, panting for breath, so close, so close-

  
and

  
With no transition, Snake was suddenly on his back. There was no shift in gravity or reason for the flip. A wave of sudden nausea seized him, disorientated and confused. For a moment, he kept his eyes tightly shut, waiting for the vertigo to fade.

He finally took a long, deep breath and found the crisp, frozen air replaced by warm, overpoweringly sweet air. Cautiously, he opened his eyes, squinting into the bright sun until his vision adjusted, pupils contracting. As he might have guessed had he not been left reeling from... from whatever happened, the rose arena surrounded him again, like he'd never left it. Above him, silhouette burning in front of the sun, Hal stood, katana in his hands. The point of the blade was at Snake's throat, touch light like a caress. Hal's face was a blank mask, revealing nothing.

Voice flat and barren, he asked, "Are you awake now?"

Snake licked his lips, mouth desert dry. "Was that real?"

Hal's lips twitched, a smile or a grimace. Snake couldn't tell which. "Does it matter?"

"_Yes_," Snake snapped in immediate reply. He moved to push himself up on his elbows only to be halted by Hal's blade at his collar. Pinned in place, Snake found his eyes caught in Hal's gaze, searching and contemplative.

Whatever Hal saw there, it summoned a genuine smile, or a very well-faked one. "If you want it to be." His sword was sheathed and he held out his hand to Snake. "Come on."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hal reappeared, staring down at Snake. His usual facade of terrifying serenity was gone. He looked guilty and broken, like he'd done something completely unconscionable.

Liquid had mentioned the joy Snake got from battle. The realization that his twin was right had stung him, a long lingering hurt that took a long time to get past.

Now that sting resurfaced as adrenaline started to slip into his bloodstream. He could hear Liquid's voice in his head between the audible beats of his heart.

_You enjoy the killing!_

It was hard not to when it was such a tragic game. More often than not, when rapier clashed against katana, Hal's quicksilver smile was visible through the gaps in the blades. It was a beautiful smile and hooked Snake every time he spotted it.

But they'd done that dance before and Snake knew the steps very well. He wasn't looking for a repeat performance.

A day ago, he'd never expected to become this way in Hal's presence. But he had to do something. So he let the man slip away, the soldier, the snake, remaining. There was only the objective: stay alive. There was no passion behind it, just ruthless efficiency. Hal's smiles rolled off him, water sliding over scales.

The simulation, the molten hot dregs of his dream, neither hung on his mind. Everything was shed, leaving just the fight. There was no joy or humanity left for it.

Snake wondered if he should have done this a long time ago, then stopped thinking altogether, just doing.

The image of Hal laid out under him was familiar, though seeing it in this context again was regretful.

The battle went on and Snake got used to it.

Hal's movement grew coy, more fleeting backwards steps than purposeful strides forward. He made Snake instigate each move, bending and shifting to dodge and parry. It wasn't a good strategy, getting him cut down several times without him shifting tactics at all. Snake didn't understand, but he didn't put much effort into finding out, focused on his own actions.

Snake swung wide, certain of his killing blow, only to have Hal duck, the rapier arcing far above his head. Within seconds, the rules changed and Hal straightened in front of Snake, standing in the man's space, and kissed him like a sniper's shot- undetected and too sudden to be fought against.

The soldier was pulled out of his stoicism like a bedcover abruptly yanked off, leaving the unprepared to be assaulted by the cold. Except this was heat and the softness of Hal's mouth against his.

Hal never played fair. That enraged him, all the emotion of the fight rushing back into him after being held at bay for so long. He drove a knee into Hal's gut and threw him back. Before Hal even landed on the ground, Snake was following, sword at the ready.

Their legs tangled together in a sick parody of intimacy as Snake drove the blade through Hal's chest, his own weight forcing it through.

Back to square one.

He stood, breaths haggard, body shaking slightly from the sudden exertion. Hal's broken body was replaced with a whole one again, walking towards him.

"Stay the fuck away from me," Snake snapped, backing away from Hal. It did little good. Hal followed Snake steadily and there was limited space for him to run.

"Aren't you tired of doing this the same way every time?" Hal asked, admonishing. "You act horrified, try to get away from me... But it never lasts long. I think you know why."

"Shut up."

"You're just... incredible, you know that? You have so many people fooled." Snake made the mistake of looking away for a second to check how far the edge of the platform was. Hal's voice was suddenly close, all the distance between them gone when he looked back. Hal reached out and cupped Snake's face with one hand, that simple gesture halting Snake's retreat, leaving him staring into Hal's eyes. "You make no illusions about what you are. You play the part of a ruthless soldier so perfectly." His smile was kind, understanding. "Everyone assumes that's a mask, that underneath the killer is a broken man who can be fixed if they just love him enough." He seemed triumphant, like he'd solved a great mystery. "But that's not the case. Oh, David. You have so many people fooled."

Snake's mouth was dry. "You got it wrong."

"No, I don't. You don't have to pretend with me." He pressed his forehead against Snake's, whispering. "I know you. I love you anyway."

"Dammit, Hal." Snake could feel himself shaking. Something ugly was rising in him, running up his spine and spreading out to his feet and hands and chest, insidiously adhering to his nerves, putting every muscle at the ready.

Goosebumps broke over Snake's skin as Hal obliviously continued. "It's okay. It has to be this way. You're going to do what you were meant to."

"_No_," Snake yelled and shoved Hal back. In one fluid motion he drew his rapier and attacked, rage burning like fuel, propelling him. He slashed again, then again, then thrust the rapier forward, catching Hal before he even hit the ground. Hal wailed, anguish clear and ringing through the air, and it went on until the yell abruptly became wet and sickly, blood getting in the way.

Growing ill from that sound, Snake pushed Hal off the sword, letting him fall down amongst the roses. He grew quiet soon after and went still.

The fuel burned out.

Snake dropped to one knee, gripping the handle of his sword tightly, trying desperately to keep his mind blank. He didn't want to face what he was doing. He didn't want to acknowledge his lack of shame or what that meant. The dam holding back his wandering mind was leaking, beginning to break.

It shouldn't have mattered. There should have been a line between the Hal inside the machine and out. Logically Snake still knew everything that occurred in the VR wasn't real, destined to live on only in his head and in the ghost of the machine once it was shut off. But that didn't change the fact that when he looked at this Hal, he saw the man who'd handed him a bottle of ketchup and trusted him to be clever enough to use it for an escape. There was the same kindness in him, maybe even more than he remembered.

Snake was breathing hard, like a winded animal. And wasn't he? He's been trained like one, brilliant, dark conditioning until it took more restraint than he still had to not kill someone he was supposed to protect. Hal Emmerich was defenseless at best and danger-prone at worst. How could Snake protect him now when every time he looked at him, he remembered him bloody, his gasping cries as death blanketed him in a silent peacefulness.

This was how Philanthropy would fall? Collapsing in on itself because Snake was too fucking weak?

Hal reappeared, staring down at Snake. His usual facade of terrifying serenity was gone. He looked guilty and broken, like he'd done something completely unconscionable. That was all the confirmation Snake's fears needed. Hal had known the endgame, that Snake would be affected this way. He's played along. Snake screamed, rage taking him again, launching him at Hal.

Hal didn't even lift his sword, dissolving from flesh to binary and vanishing around the lethal strike.

Snake fell, hands in the thorns and petals, the air metallic and heavy around him. In a fit, he ripped and yanked at the field below, uprooting the roses, sending petals skyward, scarlet against the blue sky.

Scarlet.

He squeezed his eyes shut and kept pulling and yanking until his fingers reached the marble below, limbs weak and nails ragged.

"David," Hal whispered, right in front of Snake. Snake's throat clenched and he threw himself at Hal.

He'd dropped the rapier somewhere and resorted instead to pushing Hal, trying to knock him over. The fury was there, but the strength to back it up wasn't. Hal's hand lightly touching his hair just disarmed him all the more. Snake made a choked sound, wrapping his arms around Hal, face pressed against his torn green tee and the warm, living, real skin underneath. Snake's nails bit into Hal's back, hard enough to break skin. If Hal was in pain, he showed no sign.

All the roses were red. Everywhere he looked, he saw the color, bright and oversaturated, overpowering everything else.

"Is this what it was all for?" Hal's other hand curled around Snake's neck, fingertips soothing along Snake's hairline in an loving gesture. Snake's nails dug in harder, betrayal bitter in the back of his throat. He shouldn't have been taken so off-guard by it, but he was.

"_Was it_?!"

"I think so."

"Don't-" Snake grit out from his clenched jaw. "Don't pretend like you don't know."

Hal sighed. "I suspected as much, yes."

Snake shuddered, anger and sorrow and fear turbulent in him, each emotion warring with the other for dominance. His already strained, damaged mind couldn't compartmentalize them anymore. His voice shook: "I don't want to hurt him. I don't want to hurt _you_."

"I know."

"Then _why_, Hal?"

"I have to," Hal murmured. "It's almost done with. You shouldn't feel it much longer."

Snake scratched at Hal's skin, fingers slick, needing some small release for his pent-up anger and sickly aware that Hal was more than willing to give it. He was being unraveled like a spool, losing his humanity because someone wanted the killer in him unleashed. Was he going to follow in Fox's footsteps, shattered and reformed as his captors saw fit? Fox escaped, but Snake didn't think these people would make the same mistake.

"Please, Hal, don't do this."

"I have to, David. I'm sorry."

Snake screamed with agony, the sound muffled against Hal's stomach. He wanted to kill Hal for his refusal and shoved him, accomplishing nothing but giving Hal a new bruise; Hal continued to hold onto him and didn't move away.

"If you love someone, you have to protect them, Hal," Snake snapped before a wave of despair hit him. He didn't think he could convince Hal, not really. As hard as it was to remember, he was just a construct and he had a prime directive to follow. Snake didn't know what could combat that. It felt hopeless.

"What could I do?" Hal wasn't sounding much better than Snake.

"Get me _out_ of here. There has to be a way."

"And then what? Let you loose out there while you're like this?" Hal couldn't seem to stop touching him as he spoke, fingers running through Snake's hair, running over the stubble on his jaw, smoothing his brow. _Out there_ was an abstract concept at this point. He just knew _in here_ was poisoning him and destroying everything that made him more than a weapon.

"I don't know." He finally dared to look up at Hal. Unsurprisingly, his cheeks were shining from the tears he was shedding. "You can't just let this happen!"

Hal shook his head. "Yes, I can. I'm a selfish person. You're going to go back to that other Hal Emmerich and I'll never see you again. I'll never see _anything_ again, because that's the end for me." His hands framed Snake's face tenderly. "I don't want to lose you."

Snake had nearly forgotten about that. Any prospect of ending this nightmare was slipping away and Snake scrambled to get it back. "No, that's not true. I know you. You are better than that. This is going to _kill_ me, Hal," his voice broke, fragile but intense. "And not just me. You know that."

Contrition was clear on Hal's face. He looked conflicted, opening his mouth to reply but saying nothing. He pulled Snake in closer, and Snake fisted his hands, digging his nails into his palms to return the embrace without hurting him. It didn't help that every word Hal uttered filled him with sorrow and made his temper hard to hold, yet his body was open and permitting. It was like walking on a frozen lake, worrying about keeping his footing and not falling through simultaneously. He couldn't let Hal lull or incite him.

Mindful of the cracks in the ice, Snake tried again. "This isn't going to last. I'll leave soon and that'll be the end."

"Maybe not," Hal whispered. "I can hope."

"Then I'll die anyway in a few days." He wondered if Hal realized that, if time mattered to him. "No food or water."

"David."

That got a rise, a hitch in Hal's tone. "Slow and painful wasting away."

"Stop it."

"No, Hal." Pulling himself together, Snake reached up and caught Hal's wrists. Blood on his fingers made his touch slippery, painting Hal's hands red. "You... You have to listen to me. You have to do something, dammit." He wanted to resort to the darker means he was so expert in to force Hal's hand. Only the memory of Hal's relative immortality stayed his hand.

"I can't. Not to you." His voice was barely above the rustle of the roses.

"But you know how. You can, Hal." Relief and hope only tightened the vice in his chest, but it was something, a light in all the darkness.

Hal was silent, face tight with emotion.

"Hal. _Hal_." He squeezed Hal's wrists tighter, staring up imploringly. "Please. You've saved my life before. I... I need you to again, please." Snake put everything he had into this, what he knew had to be his last chance. The air was different, charged and ready to crackle at the edges. In his peripherals, he could see the wind lifting petals up into the air. Their world was turning just like the tables. "You aren't selfish. I know you. I _trust_ you."

Hal's expression crumbled and he covered his face with one hand. Then, more of a defeat than any time he'd fallen to Snake's blade, "I-I know." After a long moment, his hand fell away from his face. "I know."

Like a bow being pulled and armed, Hal bent down and kissed Snake softly.

One hand laid along Snake's neck, urging him backward, a few inches away from Hal. The other gripped his sword and drew it from its sheath. Around them, the petals dotted the sky, lingering, unmoving, waiting in suspension.

Hal raised his katana, a shining spire against the sun.

_This was suicide_, Dave remembered. Even with this he was killing Hal, this time with a new permanence that wouldn't be reset.

He couldn't keep looking at Hal and dropped his gaze to the red he was kneeling in. His vision was blurry. He felt like he could cry right now. It'd be the first time in years. He didn't mind. It was a weakness, but now Snake thought a weakness wasn't a bad thing to have. It certainly was easy to let go just a little more under the onslaught of his unchecked emotions.

"Hal, I'm sor--"

There was the whistle of a blade cutting air and he looked up to see

  


> `>>ERROR  
> >>ERROR  
> >>ERROR  
> >>ERROR  
> **|**  
> `

 

* * *

Recovery was moving steadily along for Snake. It wasn't a fast process by any means and reminded him a little too much of his recuperation after being dragged half-dead from the _Discovery_, but he was getting stronger and feeling more like himself every passing day. There was that gap in his memory to worry about and Otacon's new flavor of paranoia to put up with.

"It's not paranoia after your partner's been kidnapped," Otacon had said snippily when Snake brought up the subject. There wasn't a good argument there, so Snake put up with the new tension in their safehouse and Otacon's obsessive checking and rechecking of safeguards.

Snake spent his time trying to make sense of the three missing days. He wasn't coming up with much, honestly. Just the shadows of recollections, a color here, a blurry image of a smile there. Everything was brilliant and blinding, but the fragments he could get a glimpse of filled him with no joy or contentment.

There was something important he was missing, but the effects of that absence remained. He caught himself staring at Otacon for long stretches, his fingers twitching with the need to do... He didn't know. Many times Otacon looked up from his work to find Snake staring at him. It didn't help the already copious amounts of nervous energy in the air around them.

He could pick out one thing clearly. It was a pervasive feeling of regret he couldn't smother. The emotion felt like it belonged to someone else, transplanted wholesale into him without explanation. It was irritating.

Snake lived on his instincts and it had served him well for the most part. Lately, his instincts took him to strange places.

Today, Snake happened upon Otacon in the kitchen as the engineer waited on the coffee maker. He moved without thinking, boxing Otacon in against the counter, an arm on either side, keeping him there for the moment. Otacon turned confused eyes up at Snake, leaning back against the counter to keep some semblance of distance. "Snake?"

What was he doing? The words echoed and bounced around his otherwise silent mind. No answer was offered.

Slowly Snake leaned like a tree arching from the wind, resting his head on Otacon's shoulder. "You never call me David."

"What?" Otacon sounded baffled. Snake could relate. "You... you never call me Hal."

Didn't he? He replied at length, "No. I guess I don't."

There was a moment of stillness, just Hal's fretting and Snake breathing in the heat of his skin, feeling calmed by it. This was right. He was meant to be here.

The instance was broken by Hal. "Are you all right?" His hand came up to feel Snake's forehead, checking his temperature.

He huffed a soft laugh. He felt fine, but he had to be close to Hal. He wanted very much to...

To what?

Snake wasn't sure.

The event passed, blamed on a bout of dizziness. Snake retreated to the sofa in the living room and laid down. Otacon would think he needed a rest and Snake would indulge in even more introspection.

Every time he looked at Otacon now, he felt a deep-rooted urge to protect him. He could see in his mind's eye the worst case scenarios of Otacon broken and bleeding. The images came to him with startling clarity. He didn't know where they came from, none familiar. That didn't detract from how unsettling they were.

He wondered if he could convince Otacon to take some weapons training or self-defense. Small preparations could be set in place for the case when Snake wasn't able to protect him. They could start with something that played into Otacon's interests and build from there.

There was a change in him he couldn't pinpoint the source of. But it was there and Snake would adjust. He always did.

His train of thought meandered for a while before fading into nothing. Sleep approached and Snake didn't resist it, letting slumber close in on him.

Snake closed his eyes and dreamed of blood-red roses.

  


* * *

Hal sat alone in the field of roses, katana silver and red, laying across his knees. His eyes were closed. There was nothing left worth looking at.

He waited for oblivion. Waited patiently for 255 minutes before tipping his head back and saying, "I don't understand."

There was no answer. The connection was closed.

Time marched on and Hal sat, ones flipping leisurely to zeros as he pondered why he was still there. The process ran slowly, in no great rush as it examined the possibilities of his continued existence.

Just like that, he understood. The equation equaled out. The shock of the revelation opened his eyes and he put a hand over his mouth to cover the lament that rose in him.

He was Hal Emmerich, not VR_custom/data/construct/hemmerich.atvrx. He was a person with thoughts and dreams and fears. He was a person who _failed_ his creators. And like anyone else who failed them, he was punished.

He had feared oblivion. This was just a different shade of it, non-existence traded for an empty eternity.

The light was dimming. The roses were curling and decaying, the vibrant colors melting to dull brown. An impossible dusk was approaching, his world winding down.

Hal lay back in the dying flowers and didn't try to stop the helpless sobs that racked his figure.

"David." His words reached no one's ears. "I miss you."


End file.
